The Bird of Change
by Elaine de Feu
Summary: There are many heroes – the baker who feeds the starved, and a knight who slays the dragon ravaging the countryside. And then there are heroes who had done all that and more, and save and change and shape the fate of the world, and this is a story about one of them. - being rewritten
1. Prologue

_Author notes:_

_Disclaimer:_

_Most of the characters mentioned belong to Bioware, with the exception of Quizzie. She is mine. And will remain so._

_There will also appear direct sentences from the game, which I won't be properly quoting each time, as for me it tears apart the flow of the dialogue if I'm to include a reference each time. Let's just say that almost all dialogues during the game storyline belong to Bioware, and are from the game._

_Inspired by: In The End - Linkin Park_

* * *

><p>There are many stories about heroes – some affect the reality with the simplest, everyday tasks, others achieve great deeds and are praised for them. There are many heroes – the baker who feeds the starved, and a knight who slays the dragon ravaging the countryside.<p>

And then there are heroes who had done all that and more, and save and change and shape the fate of the world, and this is a story about one of them.

So, let us begin.

Once upon a time, there was a little bird, born among others similar to her. But she was a slightly unusual bird, and they scorned her, until mother bird threw her out of the nest to stop the squabbling.

And so the little bird faced the world, flying to all the corners, facing many challenges. She met different kinds of animals on her way, all steering her towards her fate in their own way. She met a badger, and it scared her, but then it protected her and she stopped being afraid. She met a mole that walked on earth and made her laugh. She met a bull that made her question her values. She met a hawk that taught her the significance of freedom. And she met a wolf, and fell in love.

Her wings got broken, but then they healed, and she found a new meaning. And as she started flying once more, the world changed and grew in the wake of her journey.

But that's not exactly like the story goes, is it?

So, let's begin once more.

**Prologue - Time with the Lavellan**

From the very beginning Elaine Lavellan was an unwanted existence within the clan. Her mother departed at childbirth, and Keeper Mulasli had to fight hard the other clan members to keep the infant alive. "The Keeper is stubborn, should have given the wolves their due" the murmurs arose among the dissatisfied. "The dame must have died out of shame, for the fatherless child brings misfortune…" "Why keep the deadweight, with no one to take care of her? And she's a third magechild already, whatever shall we do should another one come?"

To give the young girl some semblance of a family, Mulasli had adopter her, and treated her as her own. The child was of a quiet and compliant nature, bringing much joy to her assumed parent, yet, even though the deed was done, the whispers accompanied the young elf through her childhood. No secret was safe in such small community, and the bright youngling quickly discerned attitudes of her elders, realizing that she would receive no support other children took for granted. To make matters worse, the birth daughter to Mulasli, Frissalia, vehemently hated her adopted sibling, and being born the natural leader, she brought along other children's malice as well. There was never any real bullying taking place – Mulasli was quick and unforgiving when handling such matters – but the youngsters shunned her and removed her from their activities.

Thus Elaine taught herself to be fine alone. She absorbed knowledge like a sponge, excelling in her handling of magic through the countless hours spent concentrating and trying, trying and trying until she succeed. There were tears of frustration, and over exhaustion plaguing the child, but she prevailed. And then Frissalia had gained another reason to hate her – for regardless being five years her senior, Elaine vastly outmatched her in the lore and arcane knowledge. Keeper Mulasli soon didn't have anything to she could teach the inquisitive teen, and so countless books were acquired and exchanged during Meets to keep the inquisitive youngling busy. She found clever ways to satisfy the curiosity that driven her, and supported her in withstanding the loneliness of the first rejection she experienced – the one of her community.

The child grew up to be of a quite fair looks, though by no means the most beautiful of the females around. The dark brown of her hair was common enough, though during the summer months it gained attractive golden glimmer that seemed to brighten her, and that paired with the greenish eyes with surprisingly blue inner irises tended to attract younger males attention, despite the scorn given. The slight build held a promise of future grace of movement, but to her chagrin, her attempts at imitating the mature women's manner of walking for now only brought her cruel laugh from her fellows. She was also mocked for an uncanny paleness of her skin, which wouldn't darken no matter how long she spent under the sun, compared unflatteringly to ghosts and wraiths. Elaine felt ashamed of her lankiness and distinctiveness, as well as lack of elegance, and so failed to recognize any of her attractiveness in the eyes of the opposite sex. Not that the knowledge would have brought any fruition at all – the young were still very much influenced by Frissalia, and anyone giving her second looks was mercilessly ridiculed by the rest of the pack. And thus, her experiences with flirting and romance remained wholly in the land of fantasy and novels she sneakily acquired.

During her teens she was given the task of tending to the herbs the clan nursed when they settled for winter months, and handling the hallas while they travelled during the warmer months. The duties had left her even more marginalized from the clan, but she's long since stopped caring. At least she felt useful, and not being a called burden Mulasli had to make excuses for keeping, was a relief. Unbeknownst to her, the clan elders grew to appreciate her reliability and hard work, admitting to Mulasli that indeed, saving the child had not been a mistake. Her years began passing peacefully between her books and chores, until her eighteenth spring, when Shemlen started warring.

The brutal Kirkwall incident pushed the mages and Templars into the unprecedented conflict, pulling the whole world into the flames of war. The Dalish clans tried to steer clear from the storm, but soon found themselves swept along, unable to avoid all the commotion that swirled about. The situation looked truly dire, and then Divine Justinia of the Chantry called for the Conclave. The conflict cooled and the leaders of the opposing sides agreed to the temporary truce during the talks.

And Keeper Mulasli called for the Clans Meet.

There were a two types of Meets – the Grand ones, and the Clan ones. During the Grand meets, the clans came together, exchanging news, trading, and simply mingling, a pleasant alternative to constantly seeing the same faces. Not all of them attended the Grand Meets, as these usually took place in obscure locations, away from Shemlen, where some would have to travel for many months to reach. But Clan Lavellan attended them almost without a fail, every two years the Grand Meet gathered. Most of Elaine's precious books came from these occasions, as she exchanged her hard earned treasures for scraps of knowledge and legends.

On the other hand, the Clan's Meet was not called often, for its purpose was to decide the Clan's future actions, and usually the Keepers did that for themselves. Still, when a Keeper was to make a particularly unusual or unpopular decisions, Meets were used as an opportunity to alleviate concerns, and discuss the course undertaken. It was more in nature of Shemlen's council meetings, but the Dalish would not admit they picked up anything from their perceived lesser, so Meets these were called.

Elaine was awaiting the gathering unsettled, wondering what was so important for Mulasli to suspend all activities for a day. The sad news of the clan Meavel had reached their ears but a few days before, and everyone was still on edge, their sadness fresh. Even though she was usually detached from such matters, she felt somber and apprehensive, though a mask of calmness laid over her features. It was obvious the Keeper had some sort of reaction planned, but to call Clans Meet – that was atypical, for Mulasli led strong, and with no opinions asked.

They assembled around the centrepiece of the camp, the big statue of Sylaise wearied by storms and unforgiving winds. It was partially cracked at the top, a result of careless mistake during the travels, and their craftsmen's mediocre skills were insufficient to restore it to its former glory. _Yet another sign of our downfall_ crossed Elaine's mind bitterly whenever she saw the damaged figure. The youngster had quite strong opinions on the Dalish failure to uphold ancient traditions in their entirety, but kept them largely to herself, recognizing it was hardly the Clans' fault, as they lived in constant fear of the elf-hunts that were once common sport among humans, when the Chantry denounced Dales heretical. When one had to fight for survival, issues like traditions began to lose their importance.

The morning was still young, and sun created captivating patterns on the ground, glimmering through the leaves above. Elaine was chasing the illusions on the grass with her eyes, distracting herself from the growing impatience, when Keeper Mulasli took the central position, and begun the preamble. The female returned from her daydreams, and focused on their leader's speech.

"We are all aware of the tragedy that took place but a two fortnights ago." Quiet murmur of acquiescence greeted her opening words, with a quiet "Falon'Din guide them" from someone in the gathering. The feeling of gloom loomed over the crowd, the loss still a recent blow upon them. The clans weren't particularly close, and sometimes even rivalled for territory, but to have all of them slaughtered in such a merciless manner was heart breaking.

"A short while ago another message reached me, and I was pondering on it these past few days. The Shemlen's religious leader, Divine Justinia, has finally determined the Chantry's stance on the war, and called the opposing side's leaders for peace talks to village of Haven." Mulasli continued, graciously overlooking the disrespectful noise, her sound voice overriding the whispers.

"But Keeper, these are all Shemlen matters! Surely they have nothing to do with us?" interrupted one of the younger Hunters, jumping to the front of the gathering. Elaine marvelled at his courage – or thoughtlessness – to interrupt a clan leader in such outrageous fashion. The looks he received from the Elders were an indication of severe scolding looming on his immediate future, possibly even some greater humiliation.

"I believe the Meavel might take a _slightly_ different outlook on the matter" Mulasli's cutting cold tone oozed with sarcasm. The point was clear, and Hunter had the sense to look ashamed, and murmuring quiet "I'm sorry", he retreated back to his fellows. He received a few ressuring pats on the back, a silent show of unity among them, and Elaine felt a surge of jealousy at their easy companionship and forgiveness.

"The issue is far too important for us to remove ourselves again" the Keeper continued her speech, as if no interruption took place. _Especially since it has proved futile thus far _finished Elaine, her frank opinions safely kept in the confines of her mind. She was not stupid enough to believe her own transgression would be so quickly forgotten, or so painlessly.

"And so I believe it is imperative we send one of our own to… observe… the course of events." The crowd stirred, surprised at the suggestion, and its underlining implications_. Spy you mean. Mamae, this dancing around words does not become you _thought young woman to herself, snorting quietly and receiving a few scolding looks at her audacity.

"But who should go? It's not like we've people to spare, and the one going has to be prepared to face anything!" voiced her concern one of the clan lore teachers, and occasional ceremony leaders, Mishala. The elderly woman garnered approving murmurs from the gathering. Frissalia, the keepers apprentice, suddenly jerked in place, and then hid a gleeful smile, clearly with some idea in mind. Elaine blinked rapidly at the unusual occurrence, already suspicious of her stepsisters intent, certain that she won't like what is coming.

"Well, I thought that Aiden would be suitable, considering his superior survival skills" Mulasli's tone was by no means decisive, and the young mage felt a wave of trepidation, as inevitable happened, and Frissalia protested the sending away of her intended.

"Keeper, if I may intercede, Aiden is simply indispensible to our preparations for the coming winter. Sending him away will undoubtedly bring harm to the Clan. And I believe I can propose another candidate, not as… crucial… to our tasks at hand, and yet still perfectly capable of completing this mission successfully." Elaine had to admire the social aptitude of her sister's – the tone was just the right combination of indignation, respect and helpfulness, taking into account who she was making the suggestion to. There was no doubt Frissalia was the heir, one to take over the Clan's future in her hands someday.

"Oh? Do continue" allowed Mulasli. _Not like it was much of a choice, with a query stated in such way. Then again, I highly doubt Mamae was surprised by Frissalia's lack of approval. In fact, I strongly suspect that Aiden was suggested with that particular reaction in mind!_

"I am thoroughly convinced my sister Elaine is a perfect choice!" the enthusiasm in Frissalia's voice sounded so honestly, Elaine almost did a double take. _And here I thought her incapable of such deception! Well, it seems when she wants something, she certainly can get it done!_ "Her magical potential is the highest of us all, she exceeded even my competence long ago." _How nice of you to acknowledge my skills only when it suits you, sister dearest!_ The hypocrisy of her sister's annoyed the young elf in question – but a couple days ago she heard those very skills belittled by the very speaker that praised them now in front of all gathered. "And of course it's most suitable we send a mage to the Conclave that is supposed to determine the fate of the like." _How convenient of you to forgo mentioning my complete lack of experience when dealing with humans! But I suppose it wouldn't do to make me seem as anything less than a flawless candidate, would it?_ Now she was really seething with anger, but one look at Mulasli stopped her short from interceding. The Keeper seemed to really consider the option, and that frightened her.

"You have certainly raised a valuable suggestion, daughter of mine. I have to think this through carefully, so the meet shall adjourn till sundown."

The gathering swiftly dispersed, and Elaine was not at all surprised to be called upon by Mulasli. She already dreaded the decision, confident to have understood Keeper's intentions, but she wished to hear the elders reasoning.

"Mamae, you've called?" she entered the tent tentatively, relaxing as the familiarity of the surroundings made her feel as welcome as usual. She established her own household over three years ago, as she reached her fifteenth birth, but Mulasli's dwelling still was her childhood home and refuge. Glancing briefly at the shelves cluttered with books, scrolls, and dried herbs, she smiled at the usual messiness of the place.

"Yes dear, do take your coat off" Keeper was bustling around the small fire pit, preparing warm drinks for both of them. Elaine folded her outer wear and place it neatly on the ground near the makeshift kitchen, before sitting cross legged on it.

"Surely you are aware of why you are here" Mulasli paused briefly to receive the confirming nod from her charge. "I have decided to go along with Frissalia's suggestion." She made a last few stirring moves, before pouring the herbal liquid for both of them.

The log in the fire cracked, when the younger female was coming to terms with her fears being fulfilled. "Mamae, you've made this decision before the gathering" pointed out Elaine, fighting to hide her hurt at the news. "It's quite unlike you to scheme when you are certain of your actions. Why?"

"Which why? Why the gathering, or why I'm sending you away?" the Keeper didn't deny her suspicions about the choice being made beforehand. "As for the second, I've news to share with you. I'm dying, my child."

Elaine's eyes widened at the shocking news, her own difficulty entirely unimportant for the moment. "Mamae, are you certain? There must be something to be done, surely, I could…"

Keeper just shook her head, lowering her eyes to the ground. "Nothing can be done, I've consulted countless of specialists. Tis an old illness of mine that reawakened, and I'm far too old to survive it again. I'm whittling away, slowly but steadily, I've a couple summers left at most." Then she returned her gaze to her charge, an unyielding look in her eyes. "But I've not brought you to discuss this plight of mine, but to explain recent actions of mine." The Keeper took a deep breath before announcing abruptly:

"Dear child, you must leave. And once you do, know this – you cannot return."

The statement upset the elf greatly, her eyes tearing up, and she blinked rapidly to chase them away. "Mamae…"

"Frissalia is sure to take over once I'm gone, and she will not hesitate to turn you away" cut in Mulasli, not allowing the elf to finish her sentence. "Then you will have no opportunities, no possibilities left, you will have to go to one of the Alienages, among those of different customs and faith, bowing their heads to those who forced us into exile, destroyed our homeland." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "This terrible situation now – it is a chance for you to gain some value in the eyes of our community. Should you gather intelligence, and maybe get to know some of the Shemlen of import, one of the clans might accept you for the knowledge you bring."

"One of the _other_ clans? Then there's no chance…" Elaine's voice shook slightly with unwelcome understanding.

Mulasli's next words confirmed her fears "Yes, my child. I'm sorry, but the envy Frissalia carries is simply too strong. I admit I'm also at fault" Keeper's expression became one of a rueful regret "for I have not reassured her enough to prevent it from growing to this extent." She paused in reminiscence, before continuing, "returning to your queries – why the pretention at the Meet when I've already decided? I wanted to ensure Frissalia was the one who suggested this solution." Mulasli smiled sardonically. "This way I can ensure she provides you with the much needed support of her contacts throughout your journey, that with her pride at stake." She glanced with apparent wistfullness at Elaine, "at least this much I can give you. Do you have any questions?"

"No Mamae" replied young woman softly. "You made everything perfectly clear. I will take my leave now, with your permission."

A flash of regret passed through elder's eyes, as she regarded the younger with sad eyes_. _

_I shall not let this destroy me._ Elaine vowed to herself, her keen mind already starting to organize her meagre belongings into those indispensible, and those not so much. _I will learn from this, become stronger and better, so that one day no one will be able to afford turning me away._

And so she returned to her tent, to prepare for the inevitable outcome of the evening's gathering, bracing herself for the second rejection her life has brought her.


	2. Interlude One Part One

Author's Notes:

Inspired by:

Dawn of Legends - In Uchronia

**Interlude One Part One – Journey**

Day 1 (after leaving the Clan)

I've never thought that I would be doing something so mundanely human like keeping a journal, but here I am, writing to myself like some noble princess that tries to entertain her boring hours. The overwhelming feeling of loneliness is one I had thought I've grown used to, what a joke that was. I've gained a startling understanding that I never realized what true solitude meant – despite being ostracized, during my days thus far there were still clansmen about, who despite scorn answered queries and cries for help. The shock of being literally thrown out and told not to return has yet to wear out, I'm close to falling completely apart. The silence is a strange companion to have, yet there's little choice, for most of my journey, should I survive it, will be solitary. Something in me just wants to give up – what I hadn't done to earn my place, to earn the acceptance? I've kept to myself, did my best not to show Frissalia up, and pretended to be weaker, less knowledgeable than the reality, and all that proved insufficient! I suppose not having been born was the only solution, wasn't it?

And Mamae, I wish you granted me the courtesy of honesty, at least once. I wish you stopped pretending and admitted that it was all for Frissalia's sake, that you didn't want your daughter to be known as the one who turned her talented step sister away at the eve of her rise as Keeper – so you did that yourself. Mamae, I've never deluded myself such to think I've held an equal place in your heart with your birth child, so I was patient with you turning a blind eye at her antics, and I've never once complained. But truly I had not expected to lose my place so quickly, so suddenly. I had hoped to pass my time quietly for years to come, until Frissalia no longer sees me as a threat to her position or authority, and I had dreamed to never leave my Clan. What a fantasy that was!

Frissalia had been put in a position where she at least has to pretend to be helpful towards my mission, so I've received a guidance from her to a couple of City elves and merchants that may help me during the journey. There's no doubt in my mind I will need all the help I'm going to get – I have to learn to blend in, to match the typical, circle raised mageborn behaviour if I'm to send any news of the Conclave at all.

The travelling and all the accompanying events had left me beyond weary, so the day has ended early for me, with setting up a camp just at the edge of the forest my Clan typically resides in for winter. I've supplies for a few days, and Mulasli was generous enough to provide me with quite a sizeable amount of coin. 'Twas an attempt to appease her conscience, I strongly suspect.

No, I shan't judge too quickly, for I am beyond hurt to remain fair – it's not like the Keeper wants my mission to fail, or for me to die of starvation.

I ought to retire for tonight, and get an early start tomorrow, before more of my bitterness pours into those notes.

Day 2

Sunrise woke me up, the first rays of shine found me quickly gathering my belongings, and leaving the clearing behind, as I felt no need to linger. I would have to cross the Waking Sea if I were to reach my destination in time for the gathering, so the port city of Kirkwall was the only reliable option, and I had a few days' worth of journey ahead. The travelling remained uneventful, but I've spotted a few human dwellings on the horizon – it seemed to be the town that has been described to me. I'll reach it tomorrow, most likely.

The nightfall has found me yet again in a location devoid of any civilization, thus I was left once more with only my thoughts as a company. It's led me to a conclusion that my attempt at keeping my feelings hidden from myself was both stupid, and pointless. Who am I going to complain to, if not these pages? It's not like I have anyone to hear me pouring my heart out, and I've no wish letting these emotions fester and accompany me my whole life - to become like Frissalia, letting her emotions rule over her. There is nowhere to hide here, no duties to distract me from the painful truths, so there it is: I'm feeling betrayed. I truly did not expect Mamae to turn me away in such fashion, to show me so cruelly how little worth I held. And I feel wronged, for I'm certain there was nothing in my behavior that warranted such an abrupt, decisive cut off.

Day 3

I rose early yet again, eager to meet people, even if they are only Shemlen. What a disappointment that was! I've been regarded with suspicion, my markings separating me from the human crowd clearly and unforgivingly. The guards on the market observed my moves carefully, as if expecting trickery of some sort, and merchants behaved alike. I replenished my supplies as quickly as possible, eager to leave those watchful eyes behind, and was about to leave when I've overheard of a horse fair taking place on the pastures near the town.

I would have preferred a halla, of course, but that seemed to conspicuous, and one has to usually go to Dalish camp to acquire them – humans fail spectacularly at taming unpredictable hallas. I had to firmly remind myself that I would be reselling my companion at Kirkwall, since the prices for bringing mounts onto ships are said to be outrageously high.

After observing the prospective mounts and negotiations for a while, I've acquired a chestnut mare that seemed amicable enough for a not very experienced rider. I've ridden before, of course – hallas. And as I quickly came to understand, hallas and horses have many more differences than just their looks. For example, horses get scared. Easily. As me getting thrown out of the saddle over a mouse crossing the path proved.

Day 4

These days I wonder about the mission I've been given. Tis not like any reward awaits me for its completion – Mulasli had been clear at least in this one aspect, stating it's only a pretext for sending me away. And there's no way for them to prevent me from going my way, for nothing holds me back, as I've already lost my place among Lavellan. Yet I persist in my journey, for at least it gives me a purpose, instead of wandering aimlessly, wasting the coin I've been given, with no prospects for the job or acceptance – for no one will employ (accept) an apostate. Even were I to hide my skills, there will come a day of me being discovered, and then swiftly delivered on Templars doorstep, no doubt.

And another reason pushes me forward – for despite the hurt, I'm grateful to Mamae for all these years, for saving my life and taking care of me when no one else would. While a speck of grudge persists, over being abandoned for Frissalia's sake, I want to repay that debt. It will also allow me for a clean cut with my past, for after completing this last task, I will be able to tell myself honestly that there is nothing I owe Lavellan anymore.

My horse companion was surprisingly well chosen, and now that I've gotten more used to leading it, a firm hand holds fears at bay. Mostly. Crossing the stream was an… experience. It constituted of lots of neighing, jerking, pulling, falling into the water and very little actual crossing. And it took a whole hour, and then a few more for both of us to dry.

Despite these adventures, travelling on horseback did speed up the journey considerably.

Day 5

I've encountered bandits today, attempting to rob a wagon of a travelling merchant. Something in me refused to sit idly by, so the day came when I used my magic offensively for a first time. I scared most of them with ease, but one was persistent enough to force my hand. And thus I made my first kill.

I felt terribly afterwards, my powers suddenly foreign to me. Tis no wonder people are afraid, when life can perish with but a snap of fingers with a spark of magic behind. This sudden reintroduction to my troubles would have left me depressed yet again, had it not been for the merchant I saved. Tosh, for he insisted I refer to him by his given name, was very excessive in his gratitude, so outrageously that I had to laugh at his bowing and begging for me to allow some sort of compensation. When I asked where was he headed, he answered that for Kirkwall, so I inquired whether he would mind company. "No, certainly not, m'lady! I would be most glad for your ladyships travelling with my humble self, most glad indeed!" And I had to smile yet again.

Later I've found out the old weasel saw me shaken from the encounter, and performed this whole spectacle solely for my sake. He also admitted to not being as helpless as it looked at first glance – "Tis a tactic, lass. They come closer, overconfident and… Bang!" He showed me a sleeping grenade kept readily at hand. "Before they wake, me and my wares are long gone, and far too. An old, solitary merchant has to have some tricks up his sleeve, or I would have died years ago." And he laughed heartily at my astonishment.

We've spent evening swapping stories –mine were slightly edited, but as honest as I could bring myself to tell someone outside my kind – and for the first time in days I fell asleep feeling if not happy, then at least content.

Day 7

These past days of travelling with Tosh I've gained an unusual insight into human world, one that will prove invaluable if I'm to live among them for the next months.

"It's not that we humans hate elves, lass" he said once. "It's more akin to fear, awe and disdain all mixed in. Awe, for elves feel less earthly, more beautiful and ethereal, living in accordance with nature in a way no human can. Fear for all the possibilities elves once were, and could once more become – but that's what Chantry's leaders are afraid of. And so they spun lies for the commonfolk to comprehend, to fear, to counter the awe elves transpired. And finally disdain, for elves mostly seen by commoners either bow their heads contradicting both the fear and awe they ensued, or they refuse to acknowledge us the way Dalish do – confirming both of them." I've quieted for a while, thinking on his words. "You are a very wise man" I finally commented. "Am I? No, I just see things more clearly than some, lass, and I've lived thrice your years and then some on this plane." I saw calm acceptance in his eyes of the unspoken fact that not many remain for him.

"You've not told me the purpose of your travels yet, lass, it's not very typical for Dalish to leave their Clans behind" he raised his eyes from the road in askance. I twiddled around the harness of my chestnut, stalling a bit and pondering on my answer. "I'm to attend the Conclave in Haven" I've finally replied, deciding this half-truth to be sufficient explanation. I would have detested his pity, and so I stopped myself from giving any more details behind my mission – like the fact it was a one way journey. Still, from the light in his eyes, I've gathered that I had failed to deceive him, and that he could guess at parts of my untold story. Still, he refrained from calling my lie, and I was grateful for that small mercy. "Haven, huh? I wasn't aware Dalish were interested in such mundane matters like wars. You've a long journey ahead, lass, but I might yet have an opportunity to repay my debt!" his eyes twinkled brightly when he smiled. Strange man he was, that Tosh, wrinkled and slowly shriveling from his old age, and yet unbending and uncompromising, set in his own ways. I was glad that fate allowed me to have met him.

Day 8

I parted with Tosh at the gates of Kirkwall, leaving my reliable chestnut in his capable hands. On my departure, he stopped me for a short while, paying the chestnut's worth and saying in a lowered voice: "Listen, lass, I've two final pieces of advice for you. Firstly, do not allow anyone to know you for a mage – the city is swarming with Templars, and the worst kind from the bunch they are, mark my words. The whole area is terrorized, and local Dalish have wisely left, wanting nothing to do with this trouble. And the second advice, when you will go about the docks looking for a crossing, find Captain Dirthamel, and tell him old Tosh send you for a favour. Now go, and do try not to linger in the city, it's one of the worst places to be a mage in right now" even had I not intended to listen to his advice, that dark tone of voice would have convinced me otherwise. Tosh was truly worried, and that ensured I would follow his words closely. "And should you stop in Denerim in a few months' time, we might yet run across one another! Safe travels, lass!" And we parted ways, each on his or her own road to follow.

Kirkwall was in shambles, as if torn apart by some terrible disaster. People were walking cowed, jumping at shadows and generally attempting at nonexistence. The Templar presence was nearly overwhelming, I had to force myself to pretend at ordinarity, and trying to feel as non-magical as possible, I directed my steps to the Alienage, elven part of the town, where Frissalia had told me one of her acquaintances lived. It has been partially destroyed, like most of the town, but the People attempted at normality, trading and working, visibly less affected than humans. Or maybe more used to having their lives destroyed, and working from the ground yet again? That thought saddened me greatly, as I asked for the person I've been recommended to. A woman in her forties or so (it's always harder to tell with our kind, the nature is kinder towards our aging) answered my queries – yes, she knew of Frissalia, and she would be most glad to allow my stay for however long I needed to. She also confirmed Tosh's warning of the Templars: "Do be careful, they long stopped checking whether someone actually is an apostate, and at the slightest confusion they take you to the Gallows for interrogation. And not a one returned from there…" These frantic whispers further convinced me to keep my stay in Kirkwall as short as possible, so right after finishing that conversation I went to the Docks.

Finding captain Dirthamel proved a quick task, and at the mention of Tosh the surly looking man with an overgrown beard immediately brightened. "The old man Tosh is still alive then! Well lass, elf or no elf, any acquaintance of Tosh is my friend. So tell me then, what can I help you with?" I've explained I'm looking for a way to reach Ferelden. "What a coincidence! I've a ship that departures tomorrow for Jader – from there you could catch another for Highever, or travel southward for Redcliffe, wherever your road leads you. Oh, but can you prepare at such quick notice?" asked the man worriedly. I reassured him that wouldn't be an issue, and we agreed to meet tomorrow at sunrise.

Day 9

I've paid the kind elf for the night, and embarked the ship. As we were leaving the unwelcoming city of Kirkwall, with it's terrifying statues and frightened people, I breathed a sigh of relief. Templar disaster, thus far, successfully avoided.

Days 12 and 13

Ooh, if I never board a ship again in this lifetime, I'll be happy. The seasickness cursed me for an entire week, since about an hour after the departure from Kirkwall, leaving me bedridden and entirely useless. Had a storm happened, I would have been no help at all, as I had even been unable to write. I'm a complete failure as a seaman, as the crew laughingly informed me. They had rarely taken passengers aboard, mostly transporting cargoes filled with goods I strongly suspected to be illegal, but I had decided not to ask. The man was doing me a courtesy, after all. Later I had been told that originally the ship had belonged to Tosh, but after gathering sizable savings, the man decided he had enough of sea, and left it to his friend and second in command, Dirthamel. Dirthamel was but a young man then, and this sudden fortune left him eternally grateful, as it allowed him to gain approval of the parents of his Ferelden sweetheart, whom he married soon after. And so for years he did little favours for Tosh whenever the man asked him – but the occasions were few and far between, as the captain sadly told me. "I wish I could do more for the old man, I owe him my everything" he recounted tearfully. "But he claims I've earned everything with my own hands, and that he only quickened the process. And now and again he asks for me to let someone aboard my ships, sometimes even travels himself."

The captain refused my payment on the account of that story, and even invited me to stay the night in his household, for the hour was late when we reached the shore, and I couldn't begin my journey that day. The next day one of the servants led me to the Jaden's horse fair, and assisted in negotiating a ridiculously low price for a very good mount. It seemed like the fact I was Dirthamel's guest opened all doors, despite my unfortunate elven origin, so I acquired all travelling necessities with unexpected ease. And so a midday was yet to pass when I was ready to continue on. "Thank you for your hospitality, and safe winds with your sails" I said, parting with my kind hosts.

Day 19

And so I'm finally reaching my destination. From what I've gathered, I should be able to get to Haven tomorrow by midday, evening at latest. The nice memories from Jaden quickly faded over these past two weeks, as I encountered usual suspicion towards my origin, and my trustworthiness. But otherwise, the journey was fortunately eventless, and I pushed my mount and myself to the brink of our endurance, rushing impatiently to escape the loneliness, and thoughts like "I should have just gone with Tosh" that started plaguing me as the solitude began eating away at my resolve. Well, not much farther now, at least…


	3. Interlude One Part Two

Author Notes:

Inspired by: Road to Salvation - Future World Music

**Interlude One Part Two – Conclave**

Day 20

I've finally reached Haven. The small village-like town is bustling with visitors, all planning to attend next month's Conclave. The attempt at remaining inconspicuous is fairly successful thus far – that with many Shemlen priests of high statue holding everyone's attention. Truthfully, it is surprising how many of these clearly important personages felt it necessary to arrive ahead of time, were they counting on some unofficial deals taking place? But this is supposed to be a peace talk congregation, what there could be possibly to gain? Human politics elude me.

I'm going to need some sort of disguise, or at least a believable excuse to get close to the heart of events. For now I'm surveying the situation, and camping on the premises – the inn and any other available lodging has long since been completely overtaken by these hordes of interested parties. Looking at the situation, it doesn't really look stable (or _peaceful_) and if they don't organize something soon, the supplies are going to become a major issue (or _riot_). This location is not really what I would call farmers paradise, the soils tough and not very fertile, so I strongly doubt locals have much in terms of reserve but for them to survive the winter. Now with this… invasion… they are experiencing, while the influx of coin will certainly be welcome, these won't be much use for them should they all starve. I hope someone quickly gets their head of the gutter and solves this conundrum or this could become really messy. And bloody.

Not exactly the best kind of atmosphere for the proposed peace talks, now is it?

Day 21

I've managed to contact some of the elvenfolk in the town, all of the ones I met servants, thus far. City elves are still very much a novelty for me, a major contrast in comparison to us Dalish. What did Tosh say? Overproud versus servile? That really summed up my People pretty comprehensively. Still, it's clear that I fascinate them, and despite the incredibly annoying attitude of trying to please everyone, I can see they are bursting with unasked questions. I'm hitherto deciding how to best approach the issue, and exactly how honest should I be with them, I've no idea how much loyalty would Dalish transpire in them.

The inaction bothers me, so I started helping out the locals with random jobs, and most surprisingly, I was offered a small amount of coin in return. The Temple of Sacred Ashes, as they now call the place, a grand monument of ancient greatness, even though the said Ashes are long gone. Yet somehow as I observe them, I wonder, whether the ones that fell from greatness are the Elvhen only – for if there was once magnificence in the former Haven settlers, nothing but mundanity remains. Had I not seen it, I would have not believed these people were capable of creating such impressive architectural feats. But then again, the same could be easily said of People.

Day 22

One of the servant elves finally got a courage to come and ask for the purpose of my sudden visit to Haven. I smiled encouragingly to the woman, and answered with an enigmatic "Can't you guess at the reason?" It deflated her for a short while, before she finally looked at me again and inquired timidly: "The Conclave, m'lady?" I nodded, adding "isn't that everyone's reason, right now?" But then I have decided to trust the woman a bit, and admitted "truthfully, I could use some help with that issue." "M'lady?" "You must be aware, none of the Clans were actually invited to observe the talks. My Keeper send me here of her own… initiative." She confirmed that the local elves were aware of that. "Well, if I'm to bring home any news at all, it would be prudent to actually get close to the said negotiations, and I have no one to formally introduce me, or anything of the sort." "Oh, m'lady, we could probably help with that!" Her eyes shined brightly, as she replied, surprising me with the decisiveness in her voice. "But I'll need to talk to others, first…" The elf admitted apologetically. "That's understandable. Really, any sort of assistance would be welcome." She excused herself a short while later, presumably to talk with the not-so-hidden onlookers, who were not courageous enough to come up to me themselves. I had to force down the laugh, as I pretended not to have seen them.

Closer to the evening, the young female returned, with several others in tow, and they lurked around my campsite, uncertain how to proceed. After several minutes of waiting, I grew impatient, and called "Do come closer, despite my clearly terrifying looks, I do assure you, I don't bite. Much." That got me a startled laugh from the group, and finally they approached the fire. A redhead male began the conversation: "Lissa told us of your request, Dalish." This was a vast change in the attitude, comparing it with a fearfulness of the morning, and a welcome one. "We can help, but for a price." "Well?" I inquired impatiently, as he paused. "We would like to hear stories, m'lady!" cut in one of the younger ones. "Stories? What sort of stories?" I was honestly surprised, I expected them to request a monetary payment. "Dalish remember the stories, right, m'lady? The ones about the…" youngster lowered his tone of voice to a whisper "gods…" "Ethal…" His leader was unhappy about being cut off from the conversation, but his voice reflected a tried patience of someone who had to deal with the excitability on daily basis. "Is what he said true? You want to hear the legends about our creators?" The leader averted his eyes, colouring lightly. "We've not heard anything from our parents, at all. And we… want to know. Why have they left us?" his eyes locked onto mine, searchingly. I shook my head, stating with finality "we don't really know for sure. The legends say they haven't really left, only fell into a deep sleep, tricked by the Fen'Harell. But…" I paused at his disappointment, and smiled lightly "I could tell you of other stories. Have you heard of the first hallas? It goes on like this…"

I spent most of the night recounting countless stories of my ancestors, and they listened with shining eyes. When we finished, Measte, for that was the name of the male who led the group, asked: "But the gods had stopped answering your prayers, yes?" As I nodded sadly, he kept at it: "Then why the Dalish keep following them? Wouldn't it have been easier to ask for Maker's mercy?" And I just had to laugh at how ridiculous that thought was. "You will find, my friend, that with the Dalish, nothing is ever _easy_. But in the end I think we all hope they will one day return, and, well, we cannot accept this human god as our own." "That's blasphemous! The Maker is the creator of all life!" Injected one of the thus far quiet listeners. "Is he? Then how come we, Elves, have not heard of him before Andraste's campaign? Think about it, our civilization spanned centuries, millennia even. Surely the creator of all would have appreciated some recognition long before his supposed bride appeared?" The speaker bristled, clearly shocked at my heretic words. "But do not mind me, I don't follow his ways, so clearly I must not be aware of something" I smiled lightly to lessen the growing tension.

"We do have chores in the morning, so we should catch at least some sleep." This was clearly an instruction to be followed, so with some mumbling, the company gathered themselves and began their return to their quarters. Measte lingered a little to tell me "You fulfilled your end of the bargain, Dalish, so I will complete mine. Come tomorrow at midday to the Chantry – I will introduce you as my distant cousin, looking for work. Hopefully you are not above getting yourself dirty."

Day 23

I followed Measte's instructions, and was easily enough employed. Lissa has been assigned as my instructor for the day, and her timely advices saved me from a couple of disastrous mistakes – like bleaching one of the tapestries, when I mistook the bottles. As time progressed, she grew more comfortable with me, and soon I've discovered a quiet sense of humour behind the humble appearance. She was the first person close to my age willing to accept me, and it surprised me how happy that made me. We've finally took a break to head for a meal, and as we approached the cooks to receive our portions, Lissa suddenly sombered. "What got you so pensive?" "Our portions have been decreased, again" She whispered in answer, while smiling falsely at the cooks handing out the plates. "You mean, the supply issue remains unresolved? Still?" I was shocked at the carelessness of the administrators. "They won't realize it being a problem, until it touches THEIR share" the grim answer shook me. "Well, why Measte doesn't complain to someone?" The inaction of the apparent leader was surprising, I was disappointed, the lack of care for his charges wouldn't be approved among the Clans. The answering "Like anyone would listen" didn't convince me one bit. I quietened for the remainder of the day, mulling over the issue.

As we retired to our room, I've decided that I couldn't possibly let things rest as they were, and with that in mind, I fell fast asleep.

Day 24

I sneaked out during our working hours to consult some locals on the pressing issue of food.

"Mayor, could I have a minute of your time?" I approached the elderly man who was conversing with a few villagers near the main barn. He glanced at me warily, before answering. "Elf. What do you want?" Patience, I chanted to myself, patience, grace and respect. Do not get angry at the obvious antipathy. Just bear with it.

These were the tips Tosh gave me. "Remember lass, they will expect either pride or submissiveness. Show them neither, and that will grant you a benefit of doubt, you will confuse them, and that" he pointed his finger at me "gives you a negotiating advantage."

"I've become worried about the lack of supplies." I've stated as plainly and honestly as possible, igniting a spark of interest in my conversationalist's eyes. "The situation is bad." He admitted with a sigh. "Well, obviously we elves will be the firsts bear the consequences, so it shouldn't surprise anyone we are invested." "Any suggestions from the currently most interested party?" He smiled with kindness. "I was thinking, maybe you could raise the issue with the master of the ceremony, responsible for preparations of the Temple for Divine's arrival. With luck, he will listen, for our own pleas were soundly ignored." "That could work" he admitted thoughtfully. "The Redcliffe's merchants are less likely to ignore the Chantry's instructions, the way they turned away my own messengers. I'll go talk to him shortly." "Thank you" I bowed slightly, and ran back to the temple, before my presence was missed. Lissa raised her eyebrows in askance at my dishevelled and late appearance, so I mouthed to her "Later" before starting at my tasks.

Day 26

The unnatural congregation of all the higher clergy had brought forth an unsavoury amount of preaching and lectures, so I've decided to do my own share of contemplation and write down my own perspective on the so called "Maker". There are many issues that The Chantry teaches that seem plain ridiculous to me, for they are mutually exclusive. Firstly, if he is all knowing, and all powerful, blah blah blah and along the lines, then how could he have not saved his bride? Secondly, which I've already mentioned, how could we, the Elvhen, not have known him before? Then there's this ridiculous Blight idea, a punishment sent upon mankind for their sins. What sort of god would be stupid enough to do that? The true punishment is a life of pain and hardship, death is always swift and liberating. Unless the human god is stupid, he must be aware of that. And the notion of Wardens, bringing salvation, but only PARTIALLY? Now that is just grand.

What I believe is that Blights were, and are, a revenge of the overthrown Old Gods, sent upon the mankind in an attempt to take over at least the earth, after they were denied their rightful place in heavens. And Maker was either too weak, or didn't care enough, to rid of them, and so he placed a burden on the living, guiding them to becoming Wardens. I mean, without some sort of divine interference, who in their right mind would drink the very blood that infects and kills all that come into contact with it, all after terrible suffering? Inconceivable. And that is the only way of killing the Archdemon. So obviously, _something _must have intervened, and considering Old Gods overthrown, and ours and dwarven missing in action, Maker is the only possible candidate.

The funny thing is, Dalish do not even attempt at explaining all these inconsistencies. I mean, they ARE aware of the Maker and his silent presence – for he denies his followers even the most basic of contact. But whenever I asked a question that fell out of the accepted truths, I've been denied any information, or speculation. The Clans are perfectly happy to go about the world, hoping that one day it just might return to what it once was. I find that notion overly optimistic.

My ramblings are starting to get out of hand, and dangerous, should anyone accidentally read them, so I better avoid drawing too much attention to myself. Fortunately, among servants, anonymity is a given.

Days 27 to 36

Time started flowing faster, for the first time I enjoyed the company of people of similar age. I related many more legends over shared evenings, and they in turn explained more of the Alienages, and their own stories. I must admit the welcome was warmer than it would have been among Clans, but I refrained from speaking that aloud.

For the longest time, Measte's actions confused me, he seemed to be always near, trying to include me in every activity, every conversation. There were also light touches that I shied away from, and unwarranted compliments. Finally Lissa enlightened me "He is fascinated with you. You would have been a wonder even without your fair looks, simply by being a novelty – a Dalish not too proud to dignify us with their company. And then there's your graceful, willowy walk, that catches even human attention, despite their general distaste towards our race." "Willowy walk?" I felt incredulous. "Lissa, I've been called less dignified than a cow on a pasture by my clanmates!" "Then you must have changed" she stated simply. And maybe it really was that easy – though I remained doubtful towards her interpretation of Measte's intentions.

Still, her words caused me to reassess my thoughts towards the male, just in case she ended up being right. I started seeing him differently, and realised that he was fairly handsome, with his finely sculptured features and startlingly blood red hair. The warmth in his brown eyes was soothing, and whenever newcomers joined us, they quickly relaxed under his gaze. And despite considerable wit and charm that was added to the pretty outer package, I was not attracted to him, even a bit. I pondered on this conclusion, but any concrete answer escaped me, so I decided to let matters rest. Maybe Lissa was wrong?

Day 38

Lissa was not wrong. I've realized that when Measte pulled me along with him, away from our group which was customarily gathering for the meal. The sudden certainty startled me, and I blushed heavily at the implications, all the while Lissa watched us leave with hidden smile and encouraging wave of hand.

Measte led us to a remote hidden garden within the temple, a place rarely visited due to the annoying drafts and general coldness. He took a deep breath before releasing my hand and looking at me with startling intensity. "I cannot really comprehend you, Dalish." The word used to be almost a veiled insult, but has long since transformed into a tease, a joke at my distinction from them. "I've given you multitude of hints and invitations, and yet you refuse me any attention. Why, Lissa gets more of your time, and she's not the one arranging coincident meetings till her wit's end. I believe, I would like your answer now." " What do you want me to say?" I also turned my eyes to him, pleadingly. "I've no interest in casual dalliance, dear friend, and you cannot possibly offer me more. " That was my excuse, but truthfully even had he offered, I couldn't imagine us together. I just didn't want to offend him by admitting I wasn't interested at all, for despite the apparent indifference, I could guess that would hurt him.

"Why not?" he challenged with glowing eyes. "Measte, don't be ridiculous." I laughed at the suggestion otherwise. "We've known each other but a couple of days! Courtships among Dalish last months, years even, and I have no doubt that no matter how far apart we grew, City Elves are not that much different." He mulled over my response, before stating: "Well, that just means I haven't tried hard enough" and after that he left, with me gaping like a peasant. I shook my head in wonder at his unshakable confidence, but decided to let matters rest. I wasn't repulsed by his attentions, they were kept proper, and I've already rejected him – what more could I do without offending?

Lissa had a good laugh as I recounted the events to her this very evening. "Apparently, he is considered quite a catch in his hometown. I wonder, is it his first failure at a conquest, the way he is behaving?"

Day 40

Measte hadn't ceased to flirt with me whenever we were in one another's company, but now that I saw these attempts for what they were, I could easily turn them into a joke, or swiftly step away to avoid proximity. So I was really surprised when he called me this evening for a talk, as he avoided such direct measures since the confrontation a few days ago. Slightly suspicious of his intent, nonetheless I came to the agreed site.

"I'm leaving tomorrow" he said without preamble. He begun pacing around like impatient beast, waiting to pounce. "Whatever his _lordship_" the word was thick with sarcasm "hoped to achieve by coming here apparently fell through, so he sees no need to stick around. So" he took a deep breath "as a leader of the elves gathered here, it is my duty to appoint replacement on the stipulation of my continued unavailability. And I've a perfect person in mind." "You must be kidding" I stated plainly. "I've only ever been responsible for a bunch of hallas, and now you expect me to deal with people?!" "You are selling yourself short, Dalish. You will manage just fine, I know you were the one to solve the food problems." His decisiveness shut me up, as I wondered how in Gods' Mercy did he arrive at the conclusion that my inability to leave stuff well enough alone was in any way recommendation for managing people, before determining that obviously his attraction clouded his judgement. Before I was able to inform him of that, however, he changed the topic, as if the issue was closed.

"I wish I had more time…" He looked away with apparent regret. "More time for what?" I asked in confusion. "To convince you to join me on my way back home. It's not like you are planning to return to your Clan, after all." I was startled by his perceptiveness, as I stuttered in answer. "Have I ever claimed so?" "You didn't have to." He smiled at my expense. "It was obvious from the way you never made any plans on HOW to again reach Free Marches. Not like that changes anything for me" he sighed sadly "as you won't abandon your mission here. Or would you?" But I shook my head, on no one's account willing to do so.

"I expected as much." And as I turned away, unwilling to look him in the eyes, he suddenly closed the distance between us and stole a brief kiss from me. I must have had truly befuddled expression when he moved away, as he laughed heartily. "Well then, this is it, Dalish. Goodbye, and take good care of our People here. Do visit me in Nevarra, if you are ever nearby."

I didn't see him off. While his sudden departure surprisingly hurt me, for I've grown accustomed to his a bit overbearing yet friendly presence, I couldn't stand the way he fawned over his lord and employer. I suspect he knew that, and that's why he said his goodbye's earlier, to spare me from watching him lowering himself so. I've come to the conclusion from my confused feelings, that in the end the main sin of the Clans, pride, had not avoided me. It is the reason why I wasn't interested in him. For Measte, all the while sarcastic and outwardly unyielding among his peers, in the end was no different from other City Elves, a follower who was perfectly willing to sacrifice his dignity at command. And that repulsed me, in a way I couldn't bring myself to admit to Lissa. That would have hurt her, as she was made of the same cloth.

Day 44

Leading a crowd of disjointed people is harder than anything I've ever imagined, so time flies by even faster than before. I've barely had a time to catch some sleep, between the chores and constant arrival of new people to accommodate and take care of, as the Conclave draws close. There are many of us now in the servant quarters, far exceeding the number of beds, so arrangements have to be made for people to sleep together, and to claim some cloth for those on the floor, when that was not enough. Most of the newcomers often don't have much to do besides attending to their lords, a stark contrast from the flurry of preparations we were a part of. But these are long finished, as the Divine is expected to arrive any day now.

Day 48

The Templars have arrived, and what a surly bunch they are! I've been keeping away from them, worrying that maybe they have a way to sense even an unused magical potential. My assumed leadership helps in that, as I can decide for myself who does what, and where. The tension is slowly raising, as some unsavoury types are sneaking around the grounds. I've attempted to inform the officials of it, but was sent away with ridicule, for obviously, the Conclave's security is top notch! Well, seeing as I personally had no troubles with my spying, I've no doubt that more experienced and ill minded individuals would prove even more successful. But, obviously, there's no way I could ever use THAT particular argument.

Day 49

The Divine has arrived today, with mage delegation in tow. It's quite clear to everyone that mages were distrustful of Templars, and must have lurked around in the vicinity for quite a while already, unwilling to come near them without Divine's protection. I barely managed to steal a glance at the supposedly Holy person, before we were all chased away to make preparations for a grand feast in celebration of the Conclave, which is to officially to begin tomorrow. Finally.

The shadowy lurkers have not gone away, even though the officials were somewhat right, and Divine's arrival indeed strengthened the security around the Temple.

Day 50

The talks have barely just begun, and already there are screaming matches and accusations from both sides. How the Divine has the patience to bear with it all, I have no idea.

The atmosphere grows heavy, the success of the talks hanging by the thread. Daily, there are message birds sent and received, for neither's side leadership had actually graced the negotiations with their presence, sending interlopers instead, who lack the power to make any actual decisions. I'm quite certain the Conclave will fail at its mission.

Wait, what's with the noise? What if one of my People is being harassed? It certainly happened before…

_All of Elaine's journals were destroyed during the explosion. While she attempted at recreating them at a later time, when things calmed down, she hasn't succeeded._


	4. Inquisition Arc Part One

_Author's Notes:_

Inspired by: Amaranth – Nightwish; Nightcore remix

**Inquisition Arc Part One – The Breach**

As she was coming to, she realized the lack of comfort her kneeling position brought her. Slowly opening her eyes, she squinted in the darkness, adjusting to the lack of light, making out the contours of the cell she was in, and people surrounding her with their swords drawn. A spark on her left hand caught her attention, and she looked in wonder at the vividly green, strangely glowing markings etched onto her hand. _What happened?_ The panic shot through her, as she tried recalling anything that could have brought this about. _I remember Divine arriving at the Conclave, the excitement and preparations for the feast, but nothing after that… How much I have missed?_

Elaine snapped back to attention, as the door clanked while being opened, and more Shemlen came through. The imposing woman with warriors walk came over her, and inquired imposingly:

"Why we shouldn't kill you now? The conclave destroyed, everyone attending it – dead. Except for you." Elaine turned after the woman, unable to get past her words, but remained silent, trying to gather her wits and understand the situation_. Lissa, Ethal… my charges, my friends… just gone? _The shock was nearly overwhelming, as she had to fight back sudden influx of tears. The woman ignored her clearly shaken state, and yanked violently her marked arm.

"Explain _this_."

"I can't" whispered Elaine, trying to pull away from the unwelcome touch.

"What do you mean, you _can't__?_" the tone was disbelieving, and threatening at once. The interrogation was decidedly getting to the woman, and she felt her patience snap, and replied with uncharacteristic anger:

"I don't know what it is, or how I got it in the first place!" _How could I, when I've lost my memories of these past few days!_

"Lies!" the warrior reached for her throat, as if to throttle her, before the other woman interceded, pushing her off the elf, stating firmly:

"We need her, Cassandra."

"All those people… dead?" She had to know, and their confirming glares made her turn away guiltily. _It's my fault. It was my responsibility to protect them, and I failed. _She fought back sobs, disappointment in herself and grief mixed together, tearing her apart.

But no one was willing to allow her time to recollect herself, as her defender turned in her direction, and asked tentatively: "Do you remember what happened?"

Elaine forced her feelings down, realizing the time wasn't right with her life hanging by a thread, and replied, fear clearing away unnecessary thoughts. "I remember running, some _things_" she shuddered "chasing me, and a woman… All seemingly more like a nightmare than reality…"

"A woman?" _Trust Shemlen to latch on to the least interesting part, forgoing the rest_ grimaced Elaine, trying to recall the dreamlike reality, all disjointed and without much sense in her mind. Had she not been this shaken, she would have quite a few words for the senseless Shemlen, and most of them not very cordial, but she was, so she answered honestly.

"She reached out to me…" _and maybe more, but I have no memories, so hopefully that will satisfy you. _She searched for more, realising this little was useless, loosing track of her surroundings for a short while. In the meantime, the warrior sent away her defender, and mentioning some "Rift" she was to be taken to, freed her from her chains. That brought her back from her wonderings, and she simply had to ask:

"What _did_ happen?"

The one called Cassandra sighed heavily, and replying "It will be easier to show you" led her out of the building.

The glowing hole in the sky matching the greenish vividness of her mark immediately caught her attention. It was swirling, like a cyclone, but remained in one place, matching lightning tearing through the firmament near it. She was awed, and terrified, barely listening to Cassandra's explanations of the entity. _The rift to the demon realm caused by an explosion?_ The notion sounded ridiculous, so she had to confirm she heard correctly.

"An _explosion_ can do that?"

The female warrior shrugged before answering "This one did. Unless we act, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world."

_Wait a second, we barely have any idea what it is in the first place, and we are talking about some sort of preventive measures? Have they all gone entirely insane, or are merely unbelievably optimistic?_

But then her mark sparkled, and she screamed in pain, falling to her knees. _What is happening with me?_ she was dizzy from the pace events were taking place, so many changes to her existence within but a few short moments.

"Each time it expands, so does your mark, and it is killing you. We believe they are connected, that you may be the key to stopping it" the warrior kneeled next to her, concern clear in her tone. "But we haven't much time."

_Before it finally does kill me. But one has to wonder at Shemlen's logic – they clearly think me suicidal, doing this to myself willingly._ As she gazed at the broken sky, the resolve arose, the stubbornness to preserve in spite of the life spitting in her face, as it had many times before. _I shall not let this break me._

"I will assist, of course, to the best of my ability" _since it appears to be best shot at preserving my life, for one. The stopping the end of the world thing happens to be a side benefit. But let us be courteous, and avoid mentioning the uncomfortable truths._ Cassandra brightened, leading her in the direction of gates. The people crowded the vicinity of the building, peasants craftsmen and merchants alike glaring with unmasked hatred.

"They have decided your guilt, and demand retribution" for some unfathomable reason, the warrior felt the need to explain. _As if that is of any import, considering…_ but she stopped herself short from glancing at the Breach, afraid of inciting any more pain spikes. Cassandra kept talking as they went, but Elaine tuned her out, already aware of the hopes that rode on the Conclave's success. _Not that these were anywhere near to being fulfilled_ she recalled her last memories of the tension running thick in the Temple's walls.

They went outside the town, and again she fell to her knees, unable to withstand the suffering that suddenly resurfaced. Cassandra helped her up, finally taking the binds of, apparently realising that would make travelling easier.

When the bridge broke under the rock fell from the sky, _Seriously?_ was the thought that came to Elaine's mind. With the river hard frozen, it resulted in only a few bruises, but then demons appeared, their ugly and distorted bodies visibly unnatural. Cassandra went ahead to fend them off, but as one of them charged at the elf, _Heck no_ was the only conceivable response, as she reached to her magic in defence. Elaine barely swore at all, even in the confines of her mind - in normal circumstances, that is. These apparently provoked unsavoury responses, even from the usually detached elf.

The fight was over in no time, and Elaine had to force down the vomit, shaken and unused to wielding her magic in such manner. The sight of bodies torn apart by her power was disturbing, despite the fact these were demons, obviously deserving this fate. Cassandra appeared undaunted by it all, clearly used to violent dealings with the otherworldly beings of this nature. Yet she changed her stance, when she saw the other woman's weapon - it was clear that self-defence was an unforgivable offence in the warriors eyes, as again Elaine's life was threatened should she fail to put her accidental weapon down. She couldn't resist the jab at the apparent lack of logic in the reaction:

"You are aware, of course, that I'm perfectly capable of harming you without the staff?" She very much doubted she would be capable of actually killing the much experienced woman, even if she had to.

While it didn't resolve the tension, she was allowed to keep her find, and it allowed her a small respite of humour in the face of disaster, easing down on her disturbed nerves. Even if the other side failed to appreciate it.

Again there was no time to recollect herself properly, as Cassandra rushed her further along the way. _Maybe you are used to it, lady warrior, but my existence thus far was a relatively peaceful one_ thought Elaine to herself spitefully. _Forgive me for taking some time getting accustomed to it all._ The view would have been spectacular, the icy mountain peaks glimmering with green as the lights from the Breach reflected in the snow, but they had no time to admire it, running along the mountain path. An unnatural creaking and sounds of fighting in the distance caught Elaine's attention, and she sped up, realising grimly: _Then again, I may not have the time for getting used to it – we may just all die_. And wasn't that a cheering thought.

The sounds grew close as they reached what once must have been a military outpost, but now was a ruin basked in green. The glowing entity, a rip in the fabric of reality that took the center of the battlefield entranced Elaine so much she almost got cut apart by one of the demons that came out of it. The arrow shot in front of her eyes, aimed at her adversary, and saving her life, and she snapped out of it, finally assisting Cassandra in felling the last of the demons. And just as suddenly as the fight was finished, she found her arm being yanked. Again. This time at least it seemed to serve a purpose though, as the elf shouting the incomprehensible command brought her hand close to the rift. She felt the power cursing through the markings, a very unpleasant and slightly painful feeling, and just like that, it was over, the rift closed.

_Now that is plain ridiculous. _She pulled away, asking:

"What did you do?" Suddenly she realized she was taking to another of her kind, and her interest spiked, even as the sight of corpses around disturbed her. _Good to know nothing deters my curiosity, lest of all, bodies_ she thought ironically to herself, glancing questioningly at the man.

"_I_ did nothing. The credit is yours." Answered the bald elf, as she thought to herself: _An apostate. Not of the Clans, there are no markings. Oh my._

"The mark, you mean." She examined it closer, while the elf continued his explanation that he found magic of Breach and mark similar, and thus theorized mark being the way to close the Rifts.

"And it seems I was correct" the man seemed ridiculously pleased with himself, and Elaine felt an urge to laugh, entirely inappropriate, considering the brevity of situation.

"So it could close the Breach" interjected Cassandra, bringing back the frown that had but cleared from Elaine's features. _And the sad reality reasserts itself_ she sighed, forgoing the countless questions she wished to ask the man.

"Good to know, here I thought we would be buried in demons forever" cut in the dwarven archer, responsible for saving her life moments ago. "Varic Tethras, rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tag-along." he winked at Cassandra, which brought him an annoyed glare in response. _Clearly, there's a story_ thought Elaine.

"Elaine of the Lavellan, a pleasure. Are you with the Chantry?" she asked, certain of the contradiction, he just didn't seem like the type.

"Was that a serious question?" injected the elf a bit patronizingly, chuckling lightly_. Obviously not, but as good as any to inquire what is he doing here_ she felt a flash of annoyance curse through her _my high and mighty lord whose name I don't yet know._

"Technically I'm a prisoner." admitted the dwarf, bringing a smile out of her. Cassandra frowned, and said:

"You were brought to recount your story to the Divine. Clearly that is no longer possible" that brought about a small pause, the topic visibly saddening for her.

"Yet here I am, and luckily for you, considering the circumstances. Your soldiers are no longer in charge here, seeker, you need me." he apparently wanted to tag along, and Elaine was far from being adverse to it, obviously being the least experienced fighter among them, she would need all the help to pull through.

"My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live." _Well, obviously it is a ridiculous timing for any sort of introductions, and specifically for one such as this, but I won't complain at a moment of respite_" she thought, bowing her head in a proper greeting.

"He means _I kept that mark from killing you while you slept_" explained Varic, while fiddling around his crossbow. _So that's what the ridiculous remark was about_.

"You seem to know quite a lot about all that's happening" she voiced her suspicions, deciding to save her gratitude for a more opportune moment.

"Solas is an apostate, well-versed in such matters." Cassandra clearly thought it suitable explanation, while Elaine had to stop herself from ridiculing the easily offended warrior. _So am I, and yet I couldn't determine a whit about all this_ she thought snappily. _What him, or anyone being an apostate has anything to do with the issue?_ The man clearly sensed her attitude, so he added to further the topic:

"My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, beyond the experiences of any Circle mage." Elaine felt herself growing excited again: _A Dreamer! Oh Mythal, what a marvel, I believed these powers long lost among the People!_ But she forced herself to listen, as he continued "I came to offer my help with closing the Breach, for if it's not closed, we are all doomed."

_Now that's a cheerful thought. Still…_ "A commendable attitude" she had to admit.

"Merely a sensible one" he retorted lightly "although sense appears to be in short supply right now." He turned to address the Seeker. "Technically, Cassandra, all mages are now apostates. You must know, however, that the magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen. Your prisoner is a mage, yet I find it difficult to believe anyone could wield such powers, indeed they are beyond any mage's capabilities."

"Understood. We must get going, then." _How quick you are to believe him, when you just had me at swords pointy edge_ wondered Elaine, once again regarding the elf with interest. But more important matters pressed, so they pushed onward.

Killing demons stopped being this much of a shock after first few, but the stench and aftermath remained just as revolting. Elaine grew to appreciate the experience of her companions, as they expertly covered for her mistakes. After closing another rift, she felt herself shaking with exhaustion, the process as unpleasant as it was the first time. They entered the temporary camp after that, and she finally saw her previous defender, Leliana, discussing her fate with one of Chantry's officials Elaine encountered before, during her employment in Temple. She tuned out most of the dialogue, more along the lines of argument, regarding her fate, interjecting only slightly ironic:

"Shouldn't the Breach be our primary concern?" which induced enraged wrath from the clergyman. She thought the situation quite hilarious, if unproductive, until Cassandra put her feet down and closed the issue, and they moved onto practical matters of how to deal with the hole in the sky. When finally they asked her to make a decision on matters she had no expertise with, Elaine almost bit her tongue not to exclaim _You are asking ME out of all people about this?_ Clearly Solas was on point with his comment on general loss of common sense that touched everyone. Still she couldn't refrain from:

"_Now_ you are asking my opinion?"

"You have the mark" pointed out the male elf. _And that is relevant how, precisely_? She rolled her eyes in ire.

"Since we clearly cannot come to agreement, and you are the one we have to protect…" Cassandra shrugged, clearly convinced that this was the best solution. The urge to look up in exasperation was overwhelming, but this time Elaine held her thoughts close, realising that sharing them would pointlessly prolong the issue.

"The mountain path then" _When in doubt, choose a way that's least liable to get you killed. Or so Tosh claimed._

And so they followed the narrow trail upwards, winds furiously lashing around them, slowing them down. Elaine discovered that the thin mountain air made the breathing harder, she was getting dizzy as they went higher up. The trek led them through mining complex – overrun with demons, obviously – and then back down, deep breaths taken as it got easier. They encountered another rift, and a bunch of soldiers that tried holding the position _– And wasn't that just stupid, attempting at defence right__next__to it? _After the timely interference, Cassandra misconstrued her motives at choosing this way in particular, telling the survivors it was all intended for their rescue. Elaine didn't feel the need to correct her, deciding that if they wanted to believe in her righteousness, perhaps disillusioning them was not in her best interest. Only the "You are becoming quite proficient at this" comment from Solas, praising her Rift closing skills, incited a reaction from her – a derisive snort of disbelief. _You must be kidding._

As they reached the Temple, the destruction before her very eyes forced her to slow down, disbelief and terror washing over her as she passed the strangely burnt corpses, frozen in their positions, forcing herself onward, trying her hardest not to wonder which ones of the unfortunate were Lissa and Ethal, and which ones could possibly resemble her other charges, the other elves that Measte left in her care. _Do not look._ She chanted to herself stubbornly, biting at her lips to stop their trembling_. I shall not allow this to break me._

She missed the worried glances of her companions, as she held her head high, avoiding any of the terrible sights as much as possible. Traversing through the temple, her bitten lip started bleeding, but she didn't pay that any attention, focused on the green atrocity that was their target. They met Leliana with some of the remaining troops, when they got closer. Cassandra order the troops to take positions, and asked Elaine:

"Are you ready?" the woman shook off her depression, taking in the view. The hole was high up in the sky, far beyond their reach, with a glowing, smaller rift right underneath it.

"I cannot even begin to think how to get up there" she admitted quietly, glancing once more at the threatening Breach.

"This rift was the first, and it is the key. Close it, and you close the Breach" announced Solas decisively. She glanced at him, surprised at the certainty of his voice, but didn't doubt his words, too writhed within to bring herself to care.

"Then we find our way down" commanded Cassandra.

They progressed on, passing through what seemed like scene from the worst nightmares, place that used to awe her reduced to torn apart shreds, pieces distorted by the unfathomable power. Strange, red She kept quiet, uncertain of her ability to keep her voice steady, and unwilling to admit to weakness, for it would have forced her to confront herself, and that was neither the time, nor place.

Suddenly, when they closed onto the Rift, voices could be heard – and seen - one in particular giving her chills, ordering for some sacrifice to be kept still, and for Elaine to be killed. The female voice, begging for help, was particularly attention grabbing. She attempted to ignore this frightening incident, until Cassandra asked:

"What is it that we saw? The Divine, she called out to you… Who were the enemies? What was going on? Is the vision we are seeing true?"

"I don't remember" grunted back the elven female, trying to shake away the fear the voices caused.

"Echoes of the past, preserved by the Fade bleeding into here" Solas closed the distance between him and the entity, analysing it. "The Rift is closed, albeit temporarily. I believe that with the mark, we can open it and then properly seal it – but it will undoubtedly attract attention from the other side."

"Men, in positions!" called Cassandra, abandoning the unresolvable questions, before nodding to Elaine encouragingly. The elf sighed quietly, _here goes nothing_.

The Rift opened with a buzzing sound, and momentarily a large demon, unlike anything they encountered thus far, appeared. Elaine focused on keeping away, knowing her lack of skills would only deter the rest of the experienced soldiers, and attempted at immediately closing the menace. She failed, pain cursing through her arm, but the monster was greatly weakened, so it was obvious she ought to try again. The others whittled away its defences, pathetically weak yet still patiently chipping away at his armour, overwhelming him with sheer numbers. Elaine gathered herself and tried, again and again, and then she saw the beastly opponent felled, the unnatural tear in reality finally responding to her ministrations. The pain grew to be almost unbearable, but she felt the powers cursing through the mark, responding, and the Rift growing smaller and smaller before her eyes, until she lost consciousness, unaware of her final success.


	5. Inquisition Arc Part Two

Authors Notes:

Inspired by:

1. Inquisition Theme song extended

2. Prayer in C - Lilly Wood & The Prick and Robin Schulz

3. Memories - Within Temptation

**Inquisition Arc Part Two – It begins**

She woke up abruptly shaken by the unknown nightmare, blinking in surprise at the surroundings, yet again confused as to the events that transpired. The day must have grown late during her slumber, for the rays of light falling through the windows had an unmistakably red tint to them. The shack was scarcely furnished, but a bed, couple of shelves, fireplace and some containers scattered with a pretention at order. Elaine was taking this all in, as the doors opened, and a servant came through, of elven origin, carrying a handful of healing utilities. Seeing Elaine shaking away drowsiness, she dropped them in shock, apologising fervently:

"I didn't know you were awake, I swear!"

"That's okay. I've…" she was stopped from finishing the sentence by the elf falling to her knees.

"I beg your forgiveness, and your blessing… I am but a humble servant. You're in Haven, my lady. They say you saved us…" _…only just awakened_ though Elaine to herself, turning away to hide her distaste from the rambling woman. _And the servile attitude of the City Elves strikes again. Wait, a BLESSING?_ The woman continued to speak, so with a shake she decided to forego the worrisome issue for now, figuring she could always ask later what _that_ meant. "Then we're safe" she mused out loud, focusing onto the important matter.

"The Breach is not gone, but that's what they say" and the elf suddenly jerked up, speaking quickly "Lady Cassandra would like to see you, she's at the Chantry. "At once", she said" and the elf practically run out of the room, cowering in fear. _That's new_ recognized sarcastically Elaine, before stretching and deciding _let's find out something concrete then._

The crowd in front of the hut astonished her, as she struggled to keep her expression calm, the people, soldiers and peasants alike, frozen in a respectful salute. _What have I done THIS time? I need those answers fast_, a panicked consternation sprang.

"This is the Herald of Andraste, who closed the Breach!" humans murmured among themselves. _The what of freaking who?_ She kept her head high, and marched to the indicated large building, rising well above other town houses, maintaining steady pace while fighting the urge to run.

Within the Chantry, angry voices rang in evident argument. Elaine was led to the central door, and went in, recognizing the quarrelling – Cassandra, Leliana, and the clergyman from the outpost.

"Arrest her immediately" barked the last one, straightening up and continuing " I want her taken to Val Royeaux for the trial."

"Disregard that, and leave us" countered Cassandra immediately, the guards saluting and leaving, doors closed behind them. Elaine took a short moment to take in the bare surroundings, dimly lit by candles stacked on the table in the center.

"You walk a dangerous line, Seeker" offended official's tone was chilling. Elaine stopped herself from rolling her eyes at the emptiness of his threat:_ with the Divine gone, you are left without authority to make any decisions – as the events before proved. Do refrain from amusing me further, I just might laugh._

"The Breach is stable, but remains a threat. I will _not_ ignore it." the implication "as you would" might have as well been spoken out loud, one had to admire warrior's directness.

"I'm still a suspect?" disbelief coloured Elaine's voice. _What more did you expect from me? Am I to die for the cause, before you consider my innocence? Shemlen…_" the thoughts were decidedly acidic.

"Most certainly _yes" _replied theclergyman, glaring at her with accusation.

"No." Cassandra's steady voice cut his answer short, and Leliana took over the explanations.

"Someone was behind the explosion, someone most Holy did not expect, and he had allies that might yet live."

"_I_ am the suspect?" the man was bewildered, and angered.

"You and many others."

"But not the prisoner" he accented the words with clear distaste, disbelief colouring his features.

"I was there. I heard Divine calling out to her for help." Cassandra remained in her beliefs undeterred, crossing her arms in a gesture of defiance.

"So her survival, that… thing on her hand – all coincidence?" _He does have a point _sighed internally Elaine.

"Providence. The Maker sent us her in our darkest hour." the warrior's voice rang with true conviction, which brought her incredulous stare from the one in question.

"You do realize I'm Dalish?" _Sylaise save me from religious zealots, what's wrong with you people? Either you are out of your mind, or you believe of your Maker as much!_

"I'm well aware of your origin. Regardless, you were exactly what we needed, when we needed it." Cassandra responded firmly. _And that's reason enough? I find it highly unlikely any god would make his Herald a servant of another _. "The Breach remains, and your mark is our only hope of closing it."

"That is not for you to decide" interjected the cleric, clearly regaining his wits from the shock at their suspicion. Cassandra came forward, slamming a book of some sort on the table.

"This is a writ from the Divine herself, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn." Her voice rose, as she spoke. "We will close the Breach, restore order, and find those responsible "with or withoutyour approval."

_Clearly without _thought Elaine, watching the man leave the room with a disapproving shake of his head.

"This is Divine's directive – rebuild Inquisition of old, find those who will stand against the chaos." said Leliana with fervour. "We aren't ready; we have no numbers, no leader, no Chantry support."

_Not that having it would mean much_ recognized cynically the elven woman, sighing.

"But we must act, with you at our side" finished Cassandra, looking at Elaine intensely. _You people are trying to start a Holy War!_ The thought terrified her, _and I'm going to be right in the middle of it._ The elf once more sighed heavily, realizing with a mild annoyance: _Well played, dear as-of-now Inquisition, well played. You've painted a target on my back hailing me as saviour, and now I have no choice but to play along, and feign being happy about all this. Still, let the pretence remain, and maybe one day I'll come to claim it was my idea all along._ Aloud, she spoke, pretending at ignorance of all this "if you are truly trying to restore the order…"

"That is the plan" confirmed Leliana, her gaze full of tension, even though there was only one possible response.

"I'm in" she shook Seekers hand, recognizing sourly all the while _for all that my approval or lack of thereafter is worth anything at all._

The days following the creation of Inquisition were hectic and bustling with arrivals. A blond ex-Templar started training their small force of volunteers, those that used to be under Cassandra's command and haven't left at the news of Chantry's disapproval . Elaine tried to stay away from him, he was making her twitchy and nervous, for all her previous experiences with Templars left decidedly unfavourable impression. At Leliana's behest, an Antivan noble appeared, all clad in silks and fine jewellery, all courtly with startling intelligence hidden behind the calm facade.

Elaine felt disconnected from all of these matters, was wandering aimlessly, out of boredom half-heartedly checking the town's area, when she encountered the elven male that accompanied them during Rift-sealing business near one of the huts.

"The chosen of Andrate, a blessed hero sent to save us all" he greeted her sarcastically, a light nod in her direction. His words relaxed her, _at least someone recognizes the irony of the situation,_ and she replied in kind, with a slight edge of bitterness:

"Am I riding on a shining steed as well?"

"I would have suggested a griffon, but sadly, they're extinct" he glanced away, before turning more serious. "Joke as you will, posturing is necessary."

_Or enforced. I've no choice in the matter, after all._ The unwelcome thought worsened her mood, but the male continued, so she returned her attention to his words.

"I've journeyed deep into the fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I've watched as hosts of spirits clash to re-enact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten" he faced her, smiling fleetingly. "Every great wars has it heroes. I'm just curious what kind you'll be."

_For now, manipulated and out of my depths. And let's not forget - frightened. Very much so._ The Dreamer seemed somehow removed from the events that shook the world, and that serenity brought her comfort, strangely enough. She desperately wished to prolong the conversation, to be near the person so unaffected by all the nonsense around, so she latched onto one part he mentioned that intrigued her:

"What do you mean, ruins and battlefields?"

"Any building strong enough to withstand rigors of time has a history. Every battlefield is steeped in death. Both attract spirits. They press against the Veil, weakening the barrier between worlds" he looked at her, and she found her interest peaked, as the Fade was very far outside her expertise, and yet as a mage she had to be constantly wary of it. "When I dream in such places, I go deep into the Fade. I can find memories no other living being has ever seen."

"You sleep in the middle of ancient ruins? Isn't that dangerous?"

"I _do_ set wards. And if you leave food out for the giant spiders, they are usually content to live and let live." _Either you are not entirely right in your mind, my Dreamer, or far more powerful than you show. And I somehow doubt the first instance is the case._ But she didn't call him on that, not wanting to ruin the camaraderie she shared with the elder male, however brief the moment would be. Instead she satisfied herself with a light jab at his inconsistencies:

"I've never heard of anyone going so far into the Fade." But then she had to admit, awed, "that's simply extraordinary… "

"Thank you" he pretended to take the comment at face value, and she let it slide with a roll of her eyes. "It's not a common field of study, for obvious reasons. Not so flashy as throwing fire or lightning."

_And far more dangerous._

"The thrill of finding remnants of a thousand-year-old dream? I would not trade it for anything" there was an excitement hidden within the calmness of his voice, a conviction that rang true. They quietened for a while, and she found herself wondering what it would be like, to have access to such powers, with countless possibilities.

"I will stay then, at least until the Breach has been closed" he said suddenly, drawing her sharp gaze.

"Was that in doubt?" she inquired, worried and uncertain of his intentions. She believed him committed, that with his past words of sensibility placing him among them.

"I am an apostate mage surrounded by Chantry forces and unlike you, I do not have Divine Mark protecting me" he snapped, with a hidden anger lacing his words. More calmly, he added "Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution."

"You came here to help, Solas. I won't let them use that against you" she promised, and had to rapidly turn away, realizing how ridiculous the offer was. _Now I'm sounding cheesy. And silly. Especially considering you would hardly need my help at all, Solas, with the powers you possess._

"And how would you stop them?" he inquired curiously. _Is that a trick question? There's only one thing I could possibly hold over them…_

"However I had to" she replied steadily, looking him squarely in the eyes with confidence. He must have understood the implications, for he replied with:

"Thank you." There was a surprised sincerity to his voice that made her wonder _did you doubt my intentions?_ "For now, let us hope either the mages or the Templars have the power to seal the Breach."

"And that we can get either side to cooperate with us."

She was finally called for the meeting, Cassandra joining her on the way.

"Does it bother you?" she asked, watching Elaine glancing uncomfortably at her leather-clad hand.

"I wish I knew what it was, or how I got it" she replied, surprising herself with the vehemence of her response.

"We will find out" replied the Seeker compassionately. "What's important is that your mark is now stable, as is the Breach."

_And we should celebrate small victories_ sarcastically recognized Elaine. _Because we would have nothing to celebrate otherwise._

"You've given us time, and Solas believes second attempt might succeed – provided the mark has more power. The same level of power used to open the Breach in the first place. It is not easy to come by" related Cassandra, with obvious.

_Yes, he mentioned something along these lines. I marvel at how you trust him merely at his word so – I doubt anyone of us would be able to recognize it, should he double cross us._ She looked around the empty building, lost in thought. _Then again, the situation is desperate enough to grasp at straws. And truth to be told, I doubt he would deceive us, as his best interest lies in ridding of the green menace from the skies._ Still, she couldn't resist pointing out the irony.

"What harm could bring powering up something we barely understand?"

Astonishingly enough, the warrior smiled in response.

"Hold on to that sense of humour."

_All things considered, it might be the only thing keeping me sane_ agreed Elaine wholeheartedly.

People gathered in the Chantry's center room were introduced to her, an ex-Templar Cullen, to take charge of the troops, an Antivan noble, Josephine Montilyet, a diplomat, and Leliana, whom she met before, a spymaster. _What grand titles for commanding a bunch of ragged misfits with no support to speak of whatsoever. Although, in spite of my contempt at the farce, I ought to remain courteous. It might be crucial to my… survival prospects._

"A pleasure to meet you all."

They argued then, whom to approach for help necessary for their task – mages or Templars, before Josephine interjected, pointing out none of the factions would recognize Inquisition in its current state.

"The Chantry has denounced us, and specifically, you" the diplomat cast a significant glance in the elf's direction.

"Can't we just ignore them?" She hadn't planned on saying that out loud - she could only blame her exhaustion for this unplanned bout of honesty. Elaine hadn't intended on revealing her true thoughts on this, or any matter at all, if she could help it, to these masters at manipulation. _Busted._

"Unfortunately, it's not that easy" said Leliana, taking her suggestion seriously.

"Some are calling you – a Dalish elf – the "Herald of Andraste". That frightens the Chantry." Josephine took a short break, checking her notes nervously. _As it well should, for all the provocation it is. I'm quite certain it shots their credibility down, or at least – influence. _Elaine got acquainted quite closely with the Chantry's politics during her stay in Haven, it was unavoidable with so many Grand Clerics, and most importantly, their talkative servants around."The remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harbouring you. It limits our options, approaching either side for help is currently out of the question."

"Just how am I the "Herald of Andraste"?" mused out loud the elven female, trying to ferret out the one responsible for the rumour, though without much hope of success.

"People saw what you did at the Temple, how you stopped the Breach from growing. They have also heard about the woman seen in the Rift when we first found you. They believe that was Andraste." _Cassandra, are you truly that naïve? This sort of rumours do not just appear out of thin air, there's always a mastermind behind them._

"Even if we have tried to stop that view from spreading…" continued the half-finished explanation Leliana.

"Which we have not" admitted the warrior woman, crossing her arms in agitation. Leliana cast her a look of unveiled irritation at the interruption.

"The point is, everyone is talking about you." _And I found my mastermind. Did you reveal it on purpose, Leliana, or was it Cassandra's faith that shocked you enough to slip? No matter, now I know whom I should guard against the most._

"That's quite the title. How do you feel about all that?" inquired the so-called commander. His unexpected involvement caused the elf to twitch nervously.

"I don't mind it at all" replied ironically Elaine, _only insofar it goes against all my plans, wishes and beliefs._

"People are desperate for a sign of hope. For some, you are that sign" continued in a preaching manner Leliana.

"And for other's a symbol of everything that's gone wrong" sighed Josephine with resignation. _At least I didn't have to say that. Though I would have been decidedly less roundabout._

"Will the Chantry attack us?" Elaine focused on the matters at hand, forgoing for the moment annoyance the situation brought her.

"With words" answered Cullen dismissively, disregarding the issue.

"Yet they may bury us with them" recognized cautiously Josephine.

"There is something you can do. A Chantry cleric by the name of Mother Giselle has asked to speak with you. She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I." _I doubt that._ " Her assistance could be invaluable." _They fear you, don't they, Leliana. Just how powerful were you by Justinia's side? Then again, I barely know you, and yet I'm terrified._

"I'll see what she has to say" answered Elaine agreeably, not finding any other concerns to raise.

They had to await Leliana's spies return before the expedition to the Hinterlands, and gather supplies, so Elaine got some time to herself, and once more wandered aimlessly about the town. Haven's inhabitants were both awed enough by the so-called Herald, and grateful , so the Inquisition's needs were swiftly seen to. In result, the quarters assigned to the Elaine were, in spite of the unfavourable circumstances, with comfortable bedding and spatial. As much of a semblance at luxury as could be provided by a group of peasants and farmers.

The days grew unbearable, bringing sleepless nights, and Elaine paced in her room like a wounded beast. She was haunted by memories, unable to let go of the still recent events. Finally she couldn't avoid the issue anymore, and with a swirl of her robes, left the premises, not explaining her purpose to anyone. _I have to do this alone._ Guilt arose within her _I should have gone the very first day I've wakened. What a coward I am._ Her passing brought about hushed whispers that usually made her uncomfortable, but for once Elaine remained oblivious to it all, her stride taking her to town's gates. The watchmen saluted at her sight, and opened them without prompting, and she continued on through the newly established training grounds and further away, recounting the already once made, hours long journey in the direction of Temple's ruins.

She felt the watching eyes, and realized she was being followed, but proceeded to ignore them, aware there was no way she could be left truly alone, no matter her wishes. _Leliana's spies, most likely. A person of my statue couldn't possibly remain unguarded._ The thought left disturbingly sour taste in her mouth.

Unbeknownst to her, it wasn't only Leliana's people that watched over her. She made no secret of her leaving, and among her companions the one she grew closest to in this short time, Solas, felt compelled to follow this young woman that bore the fate of the world on her frail shoulders, yet refused to bow down under the pressure. He was concerned, remembering the bitterness hidden in her words from their earlier conversation, and easily enough avoiding the attention of the assigned chaperones, he accompanied the female from the shadows.

The Temple's destruction remained as much of a ghastly view as it was the first time she witnessed it. This time she faced the terrible sights head on, the innumerable bodies of the victims yet to be removed. Elaine fought off revulsion, and with tears in her eyes examined the grotesque figures, looking for any sort of identification she could relate to those she once knew. Her steps sounded hollowly on the ravaged ground, as she proceeded with grim diligence at her gruesome task. No casualty was left unexamined, as she hunched next to them, delicately touching the charred monstrosities with no semblance remaining to whom they were before. Finally she stopped near one of the smaller, childlike bodies, a glint of metal catching her attention. With a painful sob she fell to her knees, hurt blindsiding her. _Ethal!_ She desperately clung onto the keepsake curled up, crying soundlessly, unable to voice out her agony. After what seemed like hours, she felt her grief ease up, and with tears still rolling down her face she uncoiled and stood up.

Solas found it surprisingly hard to watch passively over as the woman fell apart in front of him, faced with the unavoidable truth of deaths those close to her. He thought himself long removed from such matters, yet this time inaction brought him no comfort, he wanted to go over and bring at least some comfort to the shaken female. Yet he decided it unwise, well aware of the growing attachment he felt towards the female, and wishing to avoid deepening it. He breathed a sigh of relief as she regathered herself, and casting one final glance, decided to leave her to her solitude, or as much of it as she could be granted considering the circumstances.

Elaine called on her magic, creating a frozen pillar, shaping it akin to a frozen tomb over the corpse. Then she moved away, watching .

"Ethal, Lissa, Treamall…" she spoke the names of her friends and charges with quiet fondness in remembrance, sadness arising with more strength yet again, accompanied by nearly overwhelming guilt. "Forgive me, for I have failed to protect you."

She had no tears left, and no excuses for her failings, so she remained silent, lost in herself until hour grew late. Then, finally, anger came, like an unstoppable tide, and yet strangely cathartic. _I promise you, I will avenge you. I will use whatever means necessary, become this hailed by Shemlen Herald in spite of my beliefs, and find those responsible. And they will pay. _The pledge made, she felt better, and able to go on. Elaine cast one last look at the makeshift burial place, before turning away and starting the journey back, confidence returned to her countenance, steps once more light and graceful.


	6. Inquisition Arc Part Three

Author's notes:

Inspired by: Still Alive - Lisa Miskovsky cover

**Inquisition Arc Part Three – Hinterlands and Val Royeaux**

She didn't rush on her way back, breathing in the chill of the night and haunting beauty of the glowing Breach etched into the sky, so it was already the next day's morning when Elaine arrived back at the Chantry, people long awake and at their tasks. She welcomed the warmth sun brought, and with admiration appreciated the play of light at the snowy peaks above the town, while acknowledging with a smile the gratitude of the passersby, unusually at peace with the strangeness of the situation.

Her return brought her questioning glances from her comrades, to which Elaine replied evenly "I had to say my goodbyes." The grief remained, but it stopped being an overwhelming force that prevented her from any reasonable actions, her thoughts clearer than they have been in days. Her stride brought her to a small campsite, which Varric made his abode. The fire crackled playfully, and the dwarf was stirring something in a simmering pot above it, before rising at her sight.

"So, now that Cassandra's out of earshot, are you holding up all right?" worry laced his voice, as he inquired, thoughtfully only hinting at her recent disappearance. " I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than one day."

_Most people would have had some choice in the matter. I had to decide between this and the chopping block. _But the thought had no real bite to it, Elaine was already resigned to the situation. "I'm just glad to be still standing after all that" she admitted quietly, the horror of the events fresh.

The dwarf gazed at the dancing flames of fire, before laughing a bit. "I still can't believe you survived Cassandra. You're lucky you were out cold for most of her frothing rage" he sighed. "For days now we've been staring at the Breach, watching demons and Maker-knows-what fall out of it. "Bad for morale" would be an understatement. I still can't believe anyone was in there and lived."

_You are not the only one._

"The Breach requires sealing, as fast as possible" said Elaine firmly, gazing at it with vehemence. _And then we move onto the important matters. Like finding the bastard._

"If it _can_ be sealed. You might want to consider running at the first opportunity, I've written enough tragedies to recognize where all this is going." _I already did, my unusual friend. But if the world falls apart there will be no hiding places left._ "Heroes are everywhere, I've seen that. But a hole in the sky? That's beyond heroes, we're going to need a miracle."

On that grim note their conversation finished, and Elaine returned to her quarters to get some rest after the sleepless night. That's where, after a few hours, a messenger found her – Leliana's people scouted the Hinterlands, and they were to move out tomorrow. The woman simply nodded at that, and decided to check on her stuff once more, ensure everything was repaired and in top condition. She didn't even think to hope the trip would remain solely a peaceful negotiation.

While visiting the craftsmen responsible for the gear, she found herself inexplicably drawn in one particular direction. After a few short moments of resisting, she gave in to her desires, and visited the male elf whose talents as a Dreamer fascinated her so.

"Closing the Breach is our primary goal, but I hope we might also discover what was used to created it" Solas said out of nowhere, when she approached him. "Any artifact of such power is dangerous. The destruction of the Conclave proves that much."

_Obviously_ she was a bit annoyed at the condescending tone of his voice, as if he was speaking to a child that had to have everything explained in simple terms to understand the meaning.

"You don't think whatever created the explosion was destroyed in the blast?" she inquired, pushing away her feelings for the moment, deciding it not worthy confrontation. _In the end, he is twice my age, at least, and that warrants some respect._

"You survived, did you not?" _And that proves exactly… what? Besides the fact that I'm insanely lucky, that is._ "The artifact that created the Breach us unlike anything seen in this age. I will not believe it destroyed until I see the shattered fragments with my own eyes."

She barely stopped the flippant roll of the eyes _you just want it for yourself, don't you? Not that I blame you in the least, had I any idea how to use it, I might have wanted it myself. And I'm quite certain you at least suspect _what_ it is…_ But at least at one point she had to agree with him "we would do well to recover it."

"Leliana's people have scoured the area near the blast and found nothing. Whatever the artefact was, it is no longer there" he sounded atypically dejected, unlike his usual disinterested self. Then he straightened up, visibly shaking off the worry, and asked "in any case, did you need me for anything?"

Elaine smiled ironically_ besides a company of the only person in this whole camp that doesn't seem affected by the whole Herald of Andraste nonsense, you mean? Is it any wonder I seek respite amidst all the chaos?_ But she kept that to herself, inquiring a bit shyly about the other reason she was drawn to his company instead "what do you know about the Fade?" There was a barely hidden enthusiasm to her voice, that drew the males attention.

"A great deal, from my wanderings. There are few hard facts, but I can share what I have learned" a strange expression crossed his features, gone before she could comprehend what it meant, usual stoicism taking its place.

"Tell me of the Breach, then, please" _it is, after all, a threat to our existence._

"Simply put, it's a tear in the Veil between this world and the Fade, allowing spirits to enter the world physically" he lectured in a patient voice of an experienced teacher. "Small tears occur naturally when magic weakens the Veil or when spirits cluster at an area that have seen many deaths. But your mark allows you to exert some control over the Breach. That means it was created deliberately."

_If the explosion wasn't enough to ascertain us of that._

She inquired then of the unwelcome guests from the Breach, and he explained that the demons were in a way, misunderstood. One got from the Fade what one expected, typically. Elaine wondered then:

"Would a peaceful coexistence ever be possible?" he smiled regretfully at that, and denied.

"What of the Veil, then?" she asked further, interested, for the Dalish did not analyse the nature of magic they wielded. It simply was, and there were means to control it and exert caution, not letting demons any access to one's mind. His expertise allowed her to explore things she couldn't analyse before.

"Circle mages call it a barrier between this world and the Fade. But according to my studies in ancient elven lore, this is a vast oversimplification. Without it… Imagine if spirits entered freely, if the Fade was not a place one went to but a state of nature like the wind" Solas had a dreamy tone to his voice, and strangely nostalgic at the same time.

She thought the possibility marvellous, and admitted as much. He smiled, and indicated a bit teasingly that she couldn't possibly see it the way he did – but was nonetheless appreciative towards her open mindedness. Elaine had no more questions left, and wanted to ponder more on his responses, so she respectfully bowed as a farewell, and left the Dreamer, thoughtful expression on her face. It was only later that she realized that during their conversation she had managed to calm down, and that for a short while everything seemed manageable – Breach, Demons, even the mark. It seemed unfathomable, where did his stoic outlook originate from, when everyone else, in comparison, was in a state of a mild to strong panic. Nonetheless, it was refreshing, and comforting.

They left Haven's walls behind the very next day, and travelled to the Hinterlands. The scouts reports were far from optimistic, the war between Templars and mages tearing the region, and involving its innocent natives. There were many refugees who lost their homes, flocking here from all over Ferelden, for Hinterlands were famed for the quantity of food and shelter, the richest of the country, maybe with the exception of Denerim. But the capital turned away the pleading, king Alistair well aware that this mass of people couldn't be fed from what supplies they had left. The ufortunate gathering would and only invite the plague instead.

They established the camp on the very outskirts, in an easily defendable position uphill, plenty of water and game nearby. They had been directed by the chief scout to the crossroads, where a once small settlement turned into a refugee camp, and Mother Giselle was helping ones in need. On approach, they have heard the sounds of fighting, resounding clearly in the canyons, which sped up their steps. They arrived in the eve of brutal skirmish between Templar and mage forces and tried reasoning with both sides, but failed at reaching them, and were forced to resort to force. Elaine was strangely calm during, and after the encounter, and made far less mistakes than in their fights before. But while she recognized the necessity of these deaths, after the negotiations roved futile, she still had to turn away from the corpses to prevent nausea. She expected it would all become easier with practice, and it was becoming distressingly clear she would be getting plenty of it, before everything was finished.

The cleric she was looking for suggested a visit to Val Royeaux as the Inquisition's next course of action. Elaine thought the notion risky, and pointless - _you want me to stick a hand into a hornets' nest, just to check their sting?_ She couldn't really see the advantages of dividing the Chantry's opinion, but she kept the thoughts of their perceived weakness and uselessness concealed, recognizing it not a very "Heraldy" viewpoint. What really worried her about the suggestion was a possibility of Templar intervention, for they were the arm that until now protected the Chantry from danger – even _perceived_ one.

They remained in the Hinterlands for a couple of weeks, helping refugees, and eradicating both of the warring sides bases, to which Elaine had a bit cynical approach. _Well, let us hope their leaders take no offence at losing the foothold on these lands due to our intervention. Then again, the people here were such a sorry bunch of morons, they should be actually thanking us._ She felt no real compulsion to help the suffering Shemlen, remembering how badly most of them treated her, but in the end she decided it would spread the fame of the benevolent hero, sent by Andraste. She even taught herself to accept the hated title without as much as a blink, her promise to the deceased forever in the forefront of her mind – _whatever means necessary_.

She also had a good laugh when they encountered a citadel full of religious deviants who decided to actually _worship_ the Breach, as the obvious sign of Makers will. _Whatever happens, the Maker will always remain the all-knowing, all powerful in Shemlen' eyes, for no matter the tragedy or fortune, it is always according to his will._ The attitude disturbed her, such everlasting faith without any evidence. At least Dalish had some proofs to show for their gods previous attentions and care, before they vanished.

When they closed a rift within the depths of the fortress, she had to stop herself from the ridicule, as immediately, fanatics decided it yet _another _sign. They begged her to direct them, allow them to serve their gods will, while she carefully tested her bitten tongue for signs of blood, which she injured to prevent herself from candidness. But she wouldn't turn away a tool freely given, so she decided to use these preaching idiots to do what they did best, and spread the fame of the Inquisition.

At times there were a happier moments amidst the fighting and _work_. It amused her to hear her companions bantering between themselves, her presence for once blissfully ignored in favour of light jabs and jokes. She was cheered up in one instance in particular, which took place soon after they left the settlement near crossroads to deal with the mages that buried themselves in their fortress in forest, and busied themselves with occasional, random attacks.

"So, here we are, elf, cleaning up another human mess" Varric was in a playful mood, casting a mocking glance in Seekers direction. The woman pretended not to see it, and only sped up the marching tempo.

"What would the inquisition do without our stabilizing influence, master Tethras?" Solas played along, recognizing the joke for what it was, words thinly laced with good-natured irony. Elaine hid a brief smile his tone evoked, wishing to avoid the ire of the rigid woman.

"I assume they would just start burning things" the all-knowing sigh of feigned desperation made Cassandra grow decidedly more agitated as the exchange progressed, Varric was far better at acting than Elaine expected.

"That does sound like most humans I know" the elf pretended seriousness, with mischievous glint to his eyes that suddenly made her realize his undeniable attractiveness. The thought was so unexpected, she blushed violently, ashamed, and a bit exasperated with herself. _I'm not fourteen anymore! _

"If you _gentlemen_ are quite finished?" the word was heavily accented, expressing warrior's doubt as to its suitability while addressing the males. Cassandra was sending hopeful glances ahead of them, clearly wishing some enemies would just jump out of nowhere, forcing an end to the conversation.

"Now now, don't get touchy. We're just here to lend you simple humans our help" the dwarf was having a good time poking at the serious woman…

"Before you cause everything to explode" …and Solas joined in on the fun.

"Again" Varric sealed the dialogue, and this time Elaine burst out laughing, unable to help herself. It was almost as if they had rehearsed it before, so fluently they finished each other's sentences. The males exchanged pleased looks, that spoke of mission accomplished, and Cassandra just grunted, also reluctantly amused, in spite of herself.

It improved their cooperation, this growing trust in each other, both in motive and in skill. Elaine found herself adjusting as well, growing in experience, as she finally ceased dragging others down. They stopped having to cover for her, and she stopped gagging over the sight of death bodies. Yet something in her mourned the accompanying loss of innocence – once, she wasn't competent at maiming living beings, once she was pure. She hid these thoughts from her companions, perceiving them as weakness, and forcing herself to fit better the Herald image.

After their position in the region was well established, and the remainder of the tasks could be easily managed by their forces stationed there, they returned back to Haven, to plan for the future.

It brought about a heated discussion between the self-appointed leaders, Elaine watching the disagreement quietly from the side lines, as they exchanged the pros and cons of the visit in Val Royeaux, recommended by Mother Giselle. It all came down to the issue of safety – it was hard to predict the reaction for their intrusion into Chantry's playground.

In the end, they decided to try and play it by the ear. _What's the worst that could happen? Oh, right. I just might die_ cynically crossed Elaine's mind. Yet it was clear her opinion held no real value, so she withheld it, allowing herself to be dragged along by whatever has been decided by those with _real_ power.

They journeyed for two weeks, rushing their mounts to reach the destination. Val Royeaux was a sight to behold, and although Elaine was not very fond of its golden colour scheme, she had to admit it was grand. The multiple story buildings were adorned with decorative cloth hanging off them, in rainbow array, fluttering with the wind. The golden gates were open welcomingly, if slightly intimidating with their height and ornate carvings.

"I get the feeling they all know who we are" murmured Varric sotto voce, glancing at the passers-by skirting frightfully from their way. The curious peeks and whispers were another dead giveaway, if any doubts remained.

"Your skills at observation never fail to impress me, Varric" snapped ironically Cassandra, visibly disgruntled by the crowd's reaction.

One of the spies Leliana sent in order to discern the situation in the city, revealed herself at the sight of the group and informed them of the increased Templars presence, which _might_ have been related to their arrival. Cassandra was disbelieving:

"They are here to protect the Chantry from _us_?"

Elaine raised her eyes upwards in a flash of annoyance. It was exactly according to her predictions, and the Seeker's surprise was quite exasperating. "More like: from me" she answered sardonically._ I'm the blasphemous imposter here._

That fact did not deter them from their goal, they headed towards the central plaza, where the gathered clerics prophesized the retribution and doom upon the heretics, especially the so called Herald of Andraste. Elaine was quite enraged by the end of the speech, all of these self-righteous clergymen leeching off the people's fear and inciting it further.

A group of Templars appeared, and manhandled the leader of preachers roughly, before leaving the commotion behind in clear detachment from the situation. While Elaine wanted to clap "Way to go!" in approval, she recognized it highly inappropriate to cheer for beating up elderly women, and decidedly against what she was _supposed_ to be standing up for. And she needed a clarification. "You are not here for the Inquisition, then?" she asked the Lord Seeker Lucius, who was clearly in charge of the troops.

"As if I would care for your little band of heretics" there was a distaste in his voice as he addressed her, and he turned to leave. Cassandra attempted to speak with her former leader, but the man brushed her off with disgust, berating her for creation of the Inquisition and all the related matters. He was obviously convinced that his cause of purging all the mages was just, no matter the previous divine's intentions, and pronounced the order's independence of the Chantry. Then he marched off taking all of the Templars along, suddenly leaving the city lacking any defence, and the citizens of Val Royeaux bewildered and frightened.

"Well, there goes our hope of the Templar help" sighed resignedly Elaine, still looking in the direction of the gates after the last leaving knights.

"I wouldn't write them off so quickly, there must be some in the Order who could see sense" replied Cassandra with conviction. The elven female exchanged doubtful glances with Solas, who remained quiet thus far, remembering his words from the day they've met. _But sense seems to be currently in short supply._

As they were preparing to depart, three messages were delivered to the Herald – and one of them literally at the tip of an arrow. There was an elaborate invitation for the gala of Madame de Fer, a shady sort of riddle setting up a meeting from a personage referring to herself as a Red Jenny, _what kind of person thinks delivering messages by shooting people is a good idea, is beyond me. And let's not forget the fact that someone else could have easily picked up these red scarfs, and I would be left with half of the cryptic invitation _thought bewildered Elaine, and surprisingly enough – first enchanter Fiona, leader of the Rebel mages, decided to show up and directly invite them to mage base in Redcliffe for negotiations. Elaine was both shocked and amazed by her audacity, appearing in the middle of enemy territory, and so far away from any support that could whisk her away should anything go wrong – but it was always the darkest under the candlestick, she supposed. _Then again, I'm the last one who could criticize her for that. After all, I came here as well._ And, changing her thoughts direction: i_t might be best to deal with the matters in the vicinity all at once it while we are here. The journey back and forth seems pointless._

So she attended the ball, and talked to the famed enchanter of the Imperial Court. The woman impressed her greatly, and she gladly accepted the proposed assistance to the inquisition – for while it was certain the mage had some hidden agenda, the Inquisition was not in a position that allowed them to turn away any willing allies, particularly _powerful_ ones. In the end it didn't matter much what additional gains the woman derived from her actions, for Elaine was certain Leliana was more than capable enough to prevent them from bringing any harm to the organisation.

Meeting Sera was far more of a trial. The blond, elven archer repulsed her on some basic level, vulgar and careless with her words and actions. Elaine had to bite her tongue once again to stop herself from outright rejecting the assistance of the thieving, sometimes assassinating organization that was so unpredictable it could become dangerous. In the end, they were desperate, and Sera brought along with her talented people – even if their talents lied in the wrong place on the scale of morality. _My personal opinion aside, the Herald would be able to overlook that, give these people second chance, a chance at becoming heroes, and maybe change for the better along the way_ she told herself firmly, falling back into the persona she had to wear more often than her own face these days.

And thus they left the Val Royeaux, with some of their goals achieved, most of them, however, failed. But they had gained unexpected allies, both strong and resourceful, and they were still alive – so she supposed it wasn't all bad, in the end.


	7. Inquisition Arc Part Four

Author's Notes:

Inspired by:

Sur tes pas – the opening of Wakfu the cartoon.

**Inquisition Arc Part Four – The Templar Solution**

Upon their return the heated discussion between the leaders resumed, though its topic changed – this time at the center of the conflict was who would be more suitable for the Inquisition needs, mages or Templars. _And who would be easier to control_ recognized elven female cynically. Underlying all this was a grim awareness that once they approached one faction, another would most likely be lost to their cause. The argument lasted a couple of trying hours, until Elaine was fed up enough to let her casual mask slip for a moment and exclaim:

"Maybe you lot could just stop bickering and make a decision!" That brought her their thoughtful looks, which she quickly deciphered, and groaned. _Drat. Now I'm the one stuck with making the choice. Why can't I just shut up at times like these?_

They seemed so satisfied with themselves after pushing the responsibility onto her, she wanted to scream with frustration. Especially after they informed her gleefully that for now the organisation is not important enough for either side to take them seriously, and the "So you have time to come up with something" could have as well been said out loud.

So she was stuck with a decision she didn't want to make, a task of further spreading their reach for the said decision to have any actual meaning, and an errand for the spymaster – because Leliana just couldn't seem to leave well enough alone. There were mercenaries who for some unfathomable reason wanted her – or more accurately, _Inquisition's_ attention, but she was the one stuck dealing with them, and there were people who bothered her with their awed glances and almost worshipping attitudes. And worst of all, there was her growing infatuation with a certain male elf, which she was increasingly aware of. It was really no wonder her nerves were in tatters.

Elaine tried avoiding Solas for a couple of days after she realized her feelings, hoping these would just cool down and sort of… wither away. _He's _obviously_ not interested in someone he sees a child, for gods' sake!_ She grasped the futility of her actions when she started thinking of the male _more_ instead of less, when she didn't see him. _So maybe I really am childish_ she thought derisively. With a sigh of defeat she went along with her desires, and finally visited the elf one sunny morning. He raised his eyebrows at the sight of her, and she bowed more deeply than usual in greeting, by the way of apology for her recent unreasonable behaviour. He smiled briefly, and forgone mentioning it – she was growing accustomed to his unusual perceptiveness regarding her wishes.

And then they talked about his attitudes towards her kin, as she recognized that _clearly_ he was neither Dalish, nor City Elf. Indeed, by starting this topic she hoped to discern his origin, but she was easily outwitted and the conversation brought her no information about him, but instead quite a few painful questions. _Did the Dalish really reject wisdom freely offered by one so knowledgeable? Tis no wonder he scorns us so. Were the Keepers too proud, or too distrustful of his power?_ So she apologised, ashamed of her people:

"Ir abelas, Hahren. If they have done you any disservice, I would make that right."

He sighed, stating that it were his expectations of them that were too high.

"Ir abelas… Da'len. If I can offer any understanding, you have but to ask" and she bit her lip, turning away from him, thinking bitterly _See? But a child in his eyes._ But she knew better than to show her disappointment, and saw a chance for what it was, a possibility of learning, which had always immersed her. So they talked of the paradise of Arlathan, ages long lost, of its magic and treasures. She found herself lost in his voice, carried away by the pictures he painted before her. There was a regret and awe in his voice which she struggled not to question, realizing that she was being told about but a glimpse of what he actually saw, and was far from truly understanding Arlathan's wonders.

And then she inquired about the nature of the ancient magic, but as open as he was before, suddenly he grew once more enigmatic and elusive. He indicated that the elves of old used different sort of spells than the ones currently used, and suggested that they had some sort of blood magic to support their rituals, but these were merely hints, and she gave up on further inquiries, understanding this might not be a welcome topic. _Maybe because in the current, fallen world all that is no longer possible._

They parted amicably, him thoughtful, her slightly bitter, and more sad. The very next day they travelled to the Storm Coast, to answer the call of the Bull's Chargers.

Iron Bull was an imposing man, even for one of his kind, and without a shadow of doubt incredibly skilled, leading a group of highly disciplined and loyal people, and he was willing to join in on their war effort. Elaine was shocked by how easily he admitted to being a spy, but in some twisted way it made sense, the qunari also wanted the Breach gone, so the cooperation was bound to bring more benefits than confrontation. Still she didn't allow the issue stand just like that, and demanded all his reports to be proofed by Leliana before being sent, to which he agreed immediately, not at all surprised by the request. _Spies…_ she thought with annoyance, distressed to be seen through so easily.

They remained on the coast for some time, dealing with the bandits that disposed of one of their patrols, clearing some stray rifts and setting up the bases in the region to control its scarce resources for the future use. Elaine was sorry to go, the area was hauntingly beautiful, barely touched by human hand, for it lacked resources or fertile lands to garner their interest. She recognized cynically that her own actions were going to bite her in the future, as she was personally responsible for furthering the unwelcome influence and destroying the tranquillity of this place with Inquisition's presence. But she couldn't let her regrets stop her from the necessary actions, reminding herself _whatever means necessary_, as she was leaving the lands.

After the return to Haven, during the preparations to revisit Hinterlands, she finally found some time to ponder on the issue which of the faction should be the one they pursue. Her initial thoughts were on contacting the rebel mages, for she could identify with them easier, understanding their fear of the Templars, but after reminding herself sternly to remain impartial, she had to admit Templars were the superior option. They were disciplined, and had far more experience in dealing with demons – they were specifically trained for this, that was the original purpose of the order. So while Elaine's personal choice would have been the mages, _the Herald_ had to choose their opposition.

Then they departed once more, off to chase the spymaster's ghosts on her errand, seeking the missing wardens, whom Leliana suspected to be somehow involved in Conclave's tragedy. Meeting Blackwall was… not exactly what she expected, but not far off from it either. Truth to be told, her expectations were vague at best, as she had no previous experiences with Wardens, besides the whispered legends and overheard fables. The male was imposing and experienced fighter who was used to commanding others, a person commanding authority and a bit brash in behaviour. He denied any knowledge about the remainder of the order, but surprisingly asked to be allowed along. She was far from denying him that right, and off they went, efforts fruitless yet not entirely useless.

When they returned to their base, she called upon the leaders, announcing her decision, and asking Josephine to arrange matters. The idea was that by bringing along an Orleasian nobles to strengthen their cause they would force Lord Seeker to give them some of his precious time. Cullen seemed happy with her decision, and she had to turn away from his grateful smile, unwilling to admit how much she had to force herself to pull through it. The diplomat mentioned they would be ready to commence the operation in a couple of days, after the messages to the right places were delivered, and they dispersed.

Elaine had far too much time on her hands all of sudden, no pressing issues requiring her attention, and that left her with unpleasant thoughts and memories. So she went around, without any plan or particular aim, bothering the newcomers to the Inquisition - distracting herself, getting to know them. Her future survival was very much dependent on them, after all. Sera proved to be as much of an annoyance as during their first meeting, she still was far too careless in her opinions and observations, too quick to judge things by their cover. Blackwall was a bit of an enigma, Elaine stayed unclear about his motivations, his answers maintaining the air of openness while remaining elusive. Bull on the other hand was straightforwardly honest with his opinions on the Inquisition – he was quite impressed with the organisation in spite of its immaturity. And he spoke of himself as well, satisfying her curiosity and explaining some inner workings of the Ben'Hassrath, the qunari spy organization which was so much more than just that – a tool of influence, terror, subjugation, control and many other functions. Vivienne was an object of her hidden envy, self-assured and confident in both her abilities and position. While Elaine wore a mask to pretend as much, Vivienne simply was. Varric quickly gained a position of her second favourite, with his amazing stories and witty jokes that made the light of the serious issues they faced. His sense of humour prevailing in spite of the fear he felt, and freely admitted to, was uplifting. Cassandra still scared her, and she continued to avoid the stern warrior, but surprisingly enough she warmed up to Cullen, despite his Templar origins. She also picked up on his hidden fascination with her, but realizing he would never act on it – that with her being an _elf _and a _mage_ – disregarded it, deciding that if he was not a man enough to admit his desires, far it be for her to make it any easier for him. Especially since he was merely a Shemlen for her, and as such held no interest whatsoever. But poking at him became a source of her hidden amusement in times she grew frustrated, and she relieved herself in that unbecoming way. Maybe it was overly cruel, but she honestly couldn't bring herself to care, and she could always claim unawareness of his feelings, should he ever choose to confront her.

Just as the time drew close to their departure, she decided to indulge herself once more, and went in search of the source of her constant frustration and attraction, for in spite of being indirectly rejected in one of their previous conversations, she felt drawn to him still.

As was customary, she bowed in respectful greeting while approaching him. He smiled lightly at the sight of her, and responded with his own nod, acknowledging her presence. After a little nervous fidgeting, she admitted to wishing to know more about him, all the while berating herself in the confines of her mind at her childishness.

"Why?" he was surprised, and slightly suspicious, which hurt her feelings. _Was I not sincere enough with you, Hahren?_ Apparently not, and she had to force out of herself an admission of her respect at his courage to remain by the Inquisition, risking his freedom. She carefully omitted her fascination with him, knowing it might make him push her away, to spare her feelings.

"Not the wisest course of action, when framed that way" he laughed a bit, relaxing. Her partial honesty seemed to have sufficed, for he answered openly, and slightly apologetically, "I am sorry. With so much fear in the air… What would you know of me?" Obviously any truly personal inquiries were inconceivable, so she satisfied herself by asking of his fade adventures. He explained that its wonders interested him far more than the reality, and that he travelled to experience different situations for it. He enjoyed life to enjoy the fade, allowing his imagination to create the countless realities, addictive in their limitlessness.

"You train your will to control magic and withstand possession. Your indomitable focus is an enjoyable side benefit. We both have chosen paths which steps we do not dislike to lead us to the destination we enjoy."

His words astonished her, and with slightly widened eyes betraying the turmoil within, she couldn't help asking weakly, "Indomitable focus?"

"Presumably. I have yet to see it dominated. I imagine that the sight would be… fascinating" he answered with a teasing glint to his eyes. She fought to keep herself breathing normally, as her heart threatened to jump out of her chest, thumping wildly. _Is he enjoying ruffling my feathers so?_ she thought desperately, exasperated with him. _These double edged words will be the death of me one day._ She quickly changed the topic, feigning indifference as best she could, inquiring more about his travels. He answered readily enough, and for a moment she could pretend nothing unusual happened. The conversation shifted to his friendships with spirits, and how helpful they turned out to be during his journeys, and she was once more lost, barely able to conceal her enchantment with him.

When she returned to her rooms, hours later, she couldn't help but ponder on the situation, _could he possibly have done that on purpose?_ suspicion formed, unable to forget his ambiguous words. That didn't seem likely, but then again he was typically very restrained in his manner of speech. But no matter how much she tried to discern his motives, she couldn't, so instead she turned to analysing her own feelings. An obvious comparison was Measte, and she thought of their differences. _Is it the magic? Because he is a Dreamer, and I've always strived to learn more?_ But there was definitely more to it than simply that. _He is such a calming presence, I can always find peace, no matter circumstances. And Solas commands respect, it seems almost inconceivable someone would refuse him that. Even Cassandra deferred to his judgment, while barely knowing him. A certain dignity…_ she mused, and then came to a startling realization. _I am really totally gone, am I not?_ There was a certain resignation to that conclusion, it somehow seemed inevitable that she would feel that way for the male elf. _As if the Inquisition mess wasn't enough._

She decided that maybe some distance for a while would help her regain her senses, and outwardly reasoning that bringing another apostate to Templar stronghold might not be the wisest course of action, for the first time since their first meeting she left him in Haven while they went to secure the Templar support, taking along Iron Bull instead.

She was quite thoroughly disgusted with the nobles that accompanied her for the last couple of days before reaching the Therinfal Redoubt. They were slow, boring, and constantly complaining. The journey lasted far longer than it should have, that with them insisting on overly extravagant meals and less time spent on actual travelling than resting and blathering mindlessly amongst themselves. Had she not needed them, she would have gladly left them to the wolves. She had to keep a close lid on both her expressions and opinions almost constantly, and the continual pretention put her nerves on edge. Her unfortunate companions had taken to avoiding her studiously, as she became unable to restrain her biting remarks, that grew more cutting as she felt more pressured, even Cassandra fell prey to her lashing tongue.

The sight of fortress brought her an overwhelming relief that this farce was finally drawing to its closure. The imposing building was etched into the natural mountain formations, easily defensible and almost unassailable. Looking at the smooth, thick walls, she had a nagging suspicion that should Therinfal Redoubt ever be assaulted, there was a high likelihood its defenders would emerge victorious, after a bloody massacre of the unfortunate conquering force. The paths uphill were treacherous, and there were multiple gates and bridges they crossed that allowed a choking points where a massive force could be held out for days, weeks, possibly months even. And then she glanced at the chasms below one of the crossings, the pointy sharp rocks decidedly unwelcoming, and she thought to herself _right, no storming this place any time soon_, growing gladder with each passing moment they were actually _invited_ inside.

Ser Barris, sent out to greet them, was a surprisingly sensible man, and most likely Cullen's main source of intimate information about the Templars. She held the man in quite high regard, he was an epitome what a true knight should be, dedicated to his orders true values, and unable to overlook his superiors failure at upholding them. On the other hand, the marquis who led was outrageously disrespectful towards both the order, and the man who came to represent it. She wished she could strangle this barking dog with no bite, so that it would whimper quietly in the corner without annoying anyone any more, but that would forfeit any chances of future Orleasian noble support, so with a regretful sigh, she restrained herself. Barely.

What awaited her within the fortress was a trap, and a chaos - apparently she stopped some sort of nefarious plot merely with her arrival, and now she had to deal with its consequences. The mad leaders of the order, instead of holding negotiations, bubbled nonsensically about an "Elder One" whom they were supposedly serving, before attacking them all indiscriminately. Realizing that obviously something was incredibly _wrong_ with the Therinfall, she cut through the opposition, seeking Lord Lucius, her reliable and unflinching companions by her side. Varric paled slightly at the sight of red lyrium they found in the quarters, mumbling something about it always driving people crazy, but they couldn't ponder on the issue, as the time pressed.

Upon finally reaching their target, Lord Lucius behaved… strangely. Suddenly, she found herself sucked in, her previous surroundings disappeared, and she was closed in the confines of her mind with the Envy demon. She was disgusted, ashamed and disappointed – somehow she must have been too weak, letting the creature enter her. But she was not alone, a friendly spirit assisting her along the way, for some obscure reason accessing the prison realm Envy created. She remembered her last conversation with Solas as they spoke of his friendships with spirits, and she had to wonder – was it like that? The memories of the stoical male composed her, the fear and confusion leaving her, and forth came her lost stubbornness, _I shall not let this break me_ resolution. And they fought together, her and the enigmatic spirit, pushing the demon to the brink of its abilities and forcing it to draw upon its strength, weakening it until it couldn't _remain_ anymore, and she finally regained her mind and body. She was abruptly freed from the confinement, and what surprised her the most was that no time appeared to have passed at all, while she felt certain the process took hours.

The Envy left her, and tried running, running and hiding, which was what it was best at. But it couldn't have gone far, so they pursued, assisted by the small remainder of the order that prevailed uncorrupted. The battle against a higher demon, as opposed to the weaklings that spawned around the Rifts, was far more challenging than anything Elaine experienced thus far. It was wicked, it was devious, and it almost succeeded in killing her, but she was not alone, and Cassandra was there to help, defend, cover. That was the moment when she finally forgave the Seeker her previous transgressions, awash with gratitude for her life, but there was no time, so she picked herself up, and they continued the fight. Finally the demon had no power, no strength left, and Bull slayed it, splitting apart its body with his enormous battleaxe, his victorious howl signalling the end of the struggle.

She kneeled for a short while, breathing hard, and laughed, glad to be alive. But there were the Templars left to deal with, so she allowed Iron Bull to pull her upright, and she came to the gathered knights, attempting dignity, and failing, for she could barely walk. Still, some of her grace must have retained, or they didn't mind an utterly exhausted Herald before them, as they asked for her judgement upon their order. _Well, most certainly Leliana didn't expect that. She would have never allowed me this much power_ - she marvelled at this unexpected triumph over the ever vigilant spymaster. And Elaine couldn't resist, even if it was un-Heraldy, she decided to dissolve the order, force it under the Inquisition's banner. The organization was in shambles either way, the whole leadership needed replacing, so she didn't feel particularly guilty. It brought her quite a lot of satisfaction, as she thought _Oh Meavel, I might not be a part of a Clan anymore, but I have avenged you. The order that had slain your members is no more._

The return to Haven was arduous, they were all terribly drained, and partially wounded from their encounter with demon. Varric had a terrible gash on his forehead that required frequent attention, Cassandra was heavily bruised on the entire left half of her body from when she deflected what would have been killing blow, from Elaine. Even the elven woman herself experienced nausea and headaches which she believed to be a result of a mild concussion. Normally she would have allowed the group some time to recuperate, but she was eager to bring back the news, and start the preparations to rid them of the green atrocity scarring the firmament. They could rest later.

Upon their arrival Elaine was almost assaulted by the disgruntled leaders of the Inquisition, accusing her of standing above her station, making decisions she was not empowered to do. It seemed the dissolution of the order they wanted a help of was _not_ on Inquisiton's agenda after all. _As if I needed any more confirmation of my lack of actual power_ she thought cynically, watching Cassandra jump in her defence. _Yet the decision is made, and you cannot overturn it anymore._ There was a self-satisfied vindictiveness to the thought, finally there was something they have failed to manipulate according to their wishes.

Surprisingly, Leliana didn't seem to mind much her momentary defiance, focusing instead at swift organization of the others, and forming the numerous plans for closing the Breach. Elaine excused herself from these, both due to the tiredness, and the fact she could trust the spymaster to find the optimal solution.

As they awaited the arrival of the first, most experienced Templars, Elaine realized one day that a year had passed from the explosion of the Conclave and her friends, City Elves. She shook her head in sadness, and decided to hold a traditional remembrance ritual in their honour. She _would_ have invited Solas along, but she kept at her avoidance plan even after the return from Therinfal, and so refrained from it. And while she was resigned to the tactics overall failure, she was not ready to confront her unwelcome feelings during this uneasy time.

In the eve of the night Elaine sneaked out of her quarters, and then out from the town. She had run away from the vicinity of the Shemlen, and to the center of the frozen lake that was neat the town, where the ice was thick and solid, so she had no fear of it breaking under her. After she made a distance far enough to seem sufficient, she took of her shoes and outerwear, grimacing a bit at the sudden coldness, and drew a circle around herself with her feet. And she started dancing, the twirling was confined within the round shape she created, her hands and body falling and raising in the multitude of graceful figures. She forgot the rest of the world but her memorial, following the steps of an ancient ritual passed down in her Clans traditions, her magic flowing freely around her, rising the piled up snow in a myriads of random shapes.

She didn't realise that she was once more followed, though this time only the sleepless Solas tracked her, Leliana's spies eluded and lost on the way. He wasn't exactly worried, but wondered nonetheless what brought her here, and gazed enchanted at her dancing figure. The ritual was familiar to him, obviously, and then he remembered the date, figuring out why she came. He found himself to be reluctant to leave, as these days he missed her company, her avoidance surprisingly upsetting him. But this was a very private sort of ceremony, so out of respect he forced himself away.

This time she avoided suspicion by coming back promptly after finishing her remembrance, knowing that her religious practices would have raised many eyebrows, and caused many frowns. The Herald of Andraste, a heretic, not following Makers ways? They turned a blind eye on her lack of reverence, but to actually catch her during the profane practices would doubtlessly change that benevolence.

Days have passed, and the acclaimed assault on the Breach was prepared. The process was disgustingly simple in theory, the Templars were supposed to supress the flow of the magic in the Breach, allowing Elaine to close it. And unbelievably enough, it all went according to the plan.

The Breach was closed.


	8. Inquisition Arc Part Five

Author's Notes:

Inspired by:  
>1. Combat - Dragon Age Soundrack<br>2. Becoming a Legend - Johh Dreamer

**Inquisition Arc Part Five – Haven's Fall**

The triumph made people walk on clouds for the entirety of the next day, and everyone was so annoyingly optimistic, Elaine hid from the celebratory atmosphere. She seemed to be the only one aware that while the immediate threat was gone, there were still masterminds hidden in the shadows who orchestrated the whole disaster, and while she didn't doubt the intelligence of her companions, their willingness to put the matter aside for the moment bewildered her. So she went in search of Cole, a spirit who assisted her in Therinfal Redoubt, and spent blissfully quiet hours with him, for the others were decidedly uncomfortable in his presence, and avoided him. She had to argue for the longest time to allow him to stay with the Inquisition when he suddenly appeared out of nowhere, using their guilt and failures against them to the best of her abilities. However she recognized bitterly that what actually sealed the issue was that she successfully convinced Leliana of his usefulness, and the rest mattered little, even the fact that Elaine actually owed him her life.

The other companions disapproved as well, especially Vivienne, or at least felt uneasy, like Varric, with the exception of Solas, who was positively fascinated, and quite approving of her uphill battle to keep the spirit around. And while she did it out of her gratitude towards Cole, the elf's happiness with her was a nice side benefit, and she basked in the warm feelings it brought her.

By the end of an evening Elaine decided that avoiding the party in its entirety might get some of the less sympathetic tongues wagging, so she reluctantly left her refuge, and joined in with the revellers, sour expression carefully kept off her face. Cassandra approached her, merry and accomplished for the moment, and inquired about her reasons for the lack of celebration. She replied honestly that those responsible for the tragedy were still at large _and thus I believe it highly inappropriate to commemorate an incomplete victory. My pledge remains unfulfilled._

Cassandra wanted to respond, but a sudden commotion reached them, and then there were countless lights in a far distance, a bell was ringing alarm, panicked people skirting around, witless. The scouts brought alarming reports of unknown force marching towards the city. They rushed towards the gates, where they found an unlikely messenger – a Tevinter mage with a warning of the rebel mages from Redcliffe allying themselves with the so-called Ventatori, and their leader, monstrous Elder One. _Now, where did I hear that name before?_But there was no time, as they assembled their not very impressive forces to defend themselves.

Cullen's plan was to take control of the battle, and they used war machines for that purpose, deterring the approaching army and destroying quite a lot of it in the process. But just as the defence appeared successful, a terrifying roar resonated across the skies. _Now that's just freaking cheating!_But it didn't matter if it was fair, or if it was reasonable, as the dragon chased them back to the Chantry, all their previous efforts turned futile in a matter of seconds.

The Chantry was overrun with people squeezed together, pressing against one another, trying to find comfort in each other's proximity. Elaine glanced expectantly at the leaders of the Inquisition, who shared helpless looks, the chances of anyone's survival slim to none. Cullen suggested burying the village along with its assailants as the last defiance, and the elf snorted, disturbed by the notion. _You are all behaving like chicken, running around panicked, when someone let the fox into a coop, and that is so not helpful_ was her off handed thought, as Elaine swiftly gained control of the situation, surprising herself with her own decisiveness, and telling them to come up with something more practical, right away. Then the mage – Dorian – told them breathlessly that the Elder One was searching specifically for the Herald. Inquired about the possible reasoning behind that, he just shrugged, unable to provide any concrete answers. And the Chantry's official, who used to be a constant annoyance, interjected into the conversation, suddenly becoming invaluable, informing them of a hidden pilgrimage path among the caves, which could be used to evacuate.

Elaine closed her eyes with grim realization. _I wish…_ But there was no time for wishes, nor for fear, as she took the reins of power over the Inquisition, ordering them to proceed with gathering the people, and _leaving_. She felt her heart thumping wildly, unpleasant rush in her head, as she desperately tried not to think, and chose her companions for the perilous mission. There was a sternness in her voice, as she made certain they knew to _run_ when the Elder One and its dragon showed up. _No need for unnecessary sacrifices, one is more than enough._ There was a sudden respect from all of them, as they efficiently moved to designated tasks, warriors and leaders alike. _It seems I finally gained some esteem, what a shame it will be decidedly… short lived._A horrible laugh threatened to escape her, or maybe those were tears? The awareness of her inevitable demise was blindsiding. But then they heard the closing up assailants, and time for self-pity was over, a fierce determination taking its place. _This time I will not fail._

They battled near the last of the trebuchets, trying to draw the attention of the creature that commanded the army, and apparently wanted Elaine. The waves of enemies were unending, and they found themselves growing exhausted – _At this rate playing the bait will be entirely pointless, if I find myself slain before the dragon's arrival –_when a horrifying roar once more grew close, and she shooed her companions away. _Run._

The dragon circled the battlefield, before landing with a thump that shook the ground. She felt momentary relief as it ignored her fleeing comrade's in favour of pushing her close to the wall. But her the comfort was short lived, as terror soon overcame her, the need for pretention swept away, and she felt with desperation that she wanted to live. At dragon's heels a strange creature, Elder One, appeared, an abomination that looked like a walking corpse with strange red lyrium pointy pieces shooting out of his body.

It told her she would yield, kneel before him, as the world would, and called itself Corypheous, claiming to be once a magister from a fallen empire, who attempted to, and failed to serve his gods in person. It blathered on about her accidentally spoiling careful plans, called the mark an Anchor, a key to the heavens and brought out an orb that glowed red and made her mark hurt in terrible, convulsing pain, in an attempt to take the Anchor back. She was frightened, and wondered if that was how she would die, in the torturous agony. Then he jerked her up in the air by her marked arm, trying to dominate her, but the only coherent thought that came to her amidst all the fear and hurt was _for mercy's sake, how can you move, creature?_ The absurdity of the question in the chaos almost made her laugh - _it seems my curiosity prevails even when faced with death._ And suddenly she was no longer afraid, her mind and purpose clear, even as the thing threw her away, and additional pain joined to the suffering her mark brought – she must have dislocated her shoulder during her fall. The magister proceeded to profess her useless to him, an Anchor spoiled, and prepared to dispose of her.

But then she saw a flare from the distance, and it all no longer mattered – neither her pain, nor his spoiled hopes, as she used the trebuchet to bring down the avalanche upon them. _Still cheating_she judged hopelessly, as she saw the dragon taking the creature off to safety. But then a ground near her shook as the boulders started falling next to her, and she lost her footing, started rolling downhill, falling, and falling, the smaller stones hitting her head, hands, legs, and she resigned herself to her fate.

_I did not fail._


	9. Inquisition Arc Part Six

Author's Notes:

Inspired by:

Cassandra - Thomas Bergersen

**Inquisition Arc Part Six – Skyhold**

_I'm not dead - _she decided, right before pain hit her consciousness, and she had to stifle a groan. A splitting headache and dislocated shoulder, and oh so very bruised body, the violet marks all over her skin in addition to the usual green one – the damage was nothing if thorough. At least she could still move, some. She was dizzy with overwhelming relief and shock at her survival, and after she stood up – dizzy from strain, her body protesting the efforts, already this simple action making her breathe heavily. But then came a realization that she cannot stay in the cave that became her rescue, shielding her from the anger of the avalanche, and determination – she was roughly aware where the Haven's refugees were supposed to be heading to, so as long as she localized herself, there was a chance for her yet to survive.

The next hours were arduous torture and sheer stubbornness, lips bitten until they bled, irregular spasms of body, at first from the hurt, later also from cold as she left the shielding caverns and walked into the snow storm. There was chill seeping into her bones, steps slowing down, and overwhelming weariness, need to _sleep. _Her hands were shaking, as she hugged her arms and pressed on in the direction she believed to be correct one, but was by no means certain of. Her whole being screamed to just _give up, already, _but she wouldn't allow it to stop her.

Finally, exhaustion defeated her, and she fell unconscious on the snow.

That's how the patrol from the Inquisition refugee camp found her, for she closed onto her destination considerably enough to be within their reach. People were shocked and awed, whispering around her senseless figure as healers did their work, attempting to ease her injuries. For a short while the battle with them was dangerously close, as her heart stopped beating for a few terrifying seconds, but then she breathed in once more, finally responding to the potions forcefully poured into her mouth.

Waking up was a new effort, heavy eyelids reluctant to move, but the voices of the Inquisition leadership were raised in argument and she felt anxious to discern its nature, motivating her . She took a sharp breath at the spike of pain that accompanied rising from the cot, pulling the covers off herself.

Mother Giselle tried to stop her with well-placed arguments of pointlessness of the action, but Elaine brushed her of, the urgency to be involved, to understand, forcing her moves. The matron spoke of hope, of fear, and of providence, that supposedly guided their actions, but that held no meaning for her – _My battered body certainly felt no divine assistance – _and once more, she was incapable of standing idly by, as the Inquisition's unity crumbled to pieces right in front of her.

Her attempt proved futile, the leaders – angered Cullen, worried Josephine, tired Leliana and agitated Cassandra - urging her to rest and refusing to listen, and she felt helpless and drained and _defeated_ – until Mother Giselle started singing.

The song was beautiful. It was hope and light, heart lifting and warming their worried selves. _So that's how the Chantry keeps the faith alive. _But there was no venom in the thought, only an understanding, since Elaine was also moved, withheld tears swelling in her eyes. But then the people started kneeling before her in reverence, and the warmth was swept away, panic clouding her mind. _No, no, NO! This is a lie, I beg of you, stop this nonsense… I'm no one Chosen… _

She looked to the leaders with hopeful eyes to stop this folly, this spontaneous yet terrifying act that had her at wits end - but she found no solace there, and also non among her companions when she turned to them. There was no worship in their eyes, at least that much relieved her, just the overflowing gratitude as they bowed their heads respectfully, some of them – Varric being the biggest surprise – joining the chant along with the Mother Giselle.

And then, underneath all the panic, an unbidden thought stirred._ Maybe it does not matter, in the end, whether I'm the Herald or not. _It was a novel idea, one that seemed ridiculous at first, but felt more compelling with each passing moment. She glanced at Leliana, who returned her look squarely, unashamedly singing the final verses of the song. _I did not fail, this time. _And with slow recognition… _I did well._

She found herself pulled away from the commotion by Solas.

"A word?"

He spoke with her about the honour of being raised above her standing by humans, in a way that hasn't been seen for ages, a hard won favour. She almost snorted at this, but out of respect, held back the candid words that came to her: _I almost died for it. Had any other solution presented itself, I would have chosen it in a heartbeat, regardless of Shemlen's current… worship. _She held no delusions towards her own _sainthood_,knowing that her overblown sense of responsibility forced her to act, no altruism, no selflessness – that, and the awareness that with dragon at her heels, her life was foregone, so her death might as well have some meaning.

But then she had to focus on his words once more, when his tone became more serious, and he heavily explained to her about the Orb Corypheus carried, and its shockingly elven origin. She immediately agreed with his suggestion to hide the truth, realizing that the blame would turn to their people, no matter her current position. _Some would probably even claim I put the world on the brink of destruction to elevate my status. _The thought had a sting to it, and she closed her eyes briefly, taking in the brevity of the situation. But Solas was not quite done yet, and with a heavy sigh she agreed to his ruse of showing them to the ancient fortress, a place for Inquisition to grow and heal, that would further establish her _Chosen_ position.

The trek during the following days left her with plenty of time for thinking, peaceful and quiet, and not much more to do – others tended to their everyday necessities, and truthfully she was still far too weak for any tiring activities. So think she did.

Lethallin, Solas called her. Friend. That humbled her, far more than the Shemlen crowd bowing their heads before her. That did not mean she stopped being Da'len, child, but she had gained his respect, and in spite of her young age he decided to honour her by treating her like equal. She did not entirely understand what brought that about, precisely – her own actions were ones of desperation, not wisdom. There was no courage behind her decisions, rather, fear motivated her – fear of failure, fear of having to live with its consequences once more. And she knew how much disdain he felt for the misguided Dalish, held no delusions that their conversations allowed her to glean but a speck, a crumb of what he knew. So this sudden acceptance, this glimmer of trust she received when he told her of orb's true origin, confused her, and at the same time left her overjoyed.

But there was also an unwelcome sourness to that change, one that she was unwilling to admit to herself, for it was clear that Solas also planned to use her. _At least he is honest about it…_ Elaine tried to explain to herself, and it was for general good of all the elves, the intention to stop the potential persecution with her strengthened position. Yet she remained distinctly bitter and unhappy, as something inside her wailed at the shattered hopes of being recognized for _herself, _not her usefulness. The attraction towards him had not faded, instead it turned into a painful wound in her subconsciousness she tried to refrain from poking.

The days came and went without her truly realizing their passage. The mountains shimmered between them, dangerous crevices and sharp peaks, their overwhelming beauty and hidden danger sometimes dragged her out of the confines of her mind where she mulled over the events. She kept mostly quiet, content to let someone else pull the reins once more, and even as she pretended to lead them, Solas was the one to really choose the path. They often went together ahead of the slow caravan, in spite of her discomfort to be alone with him, ensuring the safety of the trail to be followed. And she tried to steer her reflections as far away from Solas as possible, so she refrained from speaking, and he obliged her unspoken pleas by not insisting on unnecessary platitudes.

And then they reached the Skyhold.


	10. Interlude Two

Author's Notes:

Inspired by:

Croatian Rhapsody - Maksim Mrvica

**Interlude Two – Becoming Inquisitor **_(Elaine's recollections)_

I still hate being pushed into the revered position by the circumstances the way I am, and Solas further escalating the issue was _not _what I had expected. Honestly, I was quite sure he would just chuckle derisively at Shemlen' stupidity, or make one of his offhand cynical remarks that made light of all that pretentious seriousness, and usually made it all easier to bear. But the suggestion to use it all for the benefit of elves… To ground the faith in me by leading them to the refuge… That was so far off my beliefs, _our_ beliefs I couldn't even begin to unravel it.

Then again, maybe he was just more _pragmatic _than I was. I would have much rather told them the truth, that it was him who knew of Skyhold. But that would serve no purpose, wouldn't it?

I don't know what I expected when he told me of the place, honestly, but it was decidedly not that – or at least, not that _much_. The fortress Solas showed us was in a place ideal for defence – if I once thought Therinfall unassailable, impenetrable in its mountain cove, surrounded by peaks and crevasses, then Skyfall was all that and so much _more_. The structures were placed on a flattened surface of a rocky summit, and the only viable approach was from the bridge that crossed to another peak, all other sides protected by solid walls. The possibility of anyone bringing war machines to try and tackle them was unimaginable, the terrain being steep and uneven, the wheels would have broken but a few miles into the mountains. The only real danger of the siege was if we were to be threatened by starvation, and would take _years, _provided we had any forewarning.

And the stronghold was just as beautiful as it was practical. Towering over the surrounding abyss it stood proud, and I was enchanted when I saw it for the first time in the first rays of dawning light. The colourful glimmers played on the battered battlements, and even the creaks and holes in roofs did not lessen the impression, amazingly enough. However, as we crossed the chasm, and took a closer glimpse on the buildings it became clear to us that this fortress required a lot of effort to be made habitable.

The next days were bustling with work, all hands were put to use, even those reconvalescenting. They attempted to shoo me away, the words "unbecoming" and "unworthy"often repeated in association with tasks I wanted to lend my assistance to. But I was unrelenting, and finally allowed to partake in the restoration, though the assignments that came my way were decidedly less straining than average. Yet I refrained from trying to change that, as I was not entirely irresponsible with my condition, certain activities still evoking spikes of pain and weakness in my protesting body. I ground my teeth then, pretending to be "just fine, though your concern is appreciated"but I doubt I fooled anyone. They just smiled knowingly and with infuriating condescension pushed onto me some entirely unnecessary, but definitely _sitting _duties.

Truly, the enthusiasm Haven's refugees showed towards repairs was inspiring. They were perfectly within their rights to blame the Inquisition for the loss of their homes and lives, instead they were happy to try and make their life alongside with us. As the place was slowly restored to its former glory, I found it hard to believe it was truly once abandoned. Yes, the borders moved and there was nothing of import the fortress defended – but really, this sort of perfection deserved defenders, if only for no one else to take it over.

But then some other problems arose, showing the small imperfections relating to the location, logistics being a major issue amongst them. Josephine started looking positively harried, the black circles under her eyes indicating sleepless nights, and all of us started finding ways to ease her burden – Varric and Sera moved some of their mystical contacts we were kept away from, Blackwall and Iron Bull tried to keep out of sight to stop scaring away prospective merchants, and Vivienne and Dorian did their best to appear as courtly and majestically as possible, captivating the arrivals. And then there was me, in my Herald grandeur, rising above my pride and distaste at dealing with so many of these favour-scurrying vermin, and smiling benevolently, moving with as much grace as I could muster, remembering Tosh's words and attempting the _ethereal_ elven glory.

Once the first of the buildings were finished, I was led to my new, magnificent quarters, fully restored to their once impeccable state. I pursed my lips in displeasure, for there were many far more pressing issues, than the one of my sleeping arrangements. One look at the workers, and I quickly schooled my expression to one of gratitude, as they were obviously immensely proud of themselves, their gift a heartfelt gratitude. And it wasn't like their satisfaction was unwarranted, the job was completed flawlessly, the rooms fully furnished and far more luxurious than anything I've ever lived in before. So I put on a false smile and thanked them, before allowing them to return to their other duties.

I spent entire evening taking in the amazing view from the balcony – _my_ balcony, and wasn't that a startling realization - lost in thoughts. My negative attitude towards Shemlen had lessened significantly over these past months I was forced to endure them, it wasn't much of a stretch now to imitate civility – and in some cases I have grown to genuinely care for them. During the Haven's Fall I sincerely wished to protect as many innocents as possible, and helping refugees in Hinterlands also warmed me up to them, as watching this much of misery would melt any heart. But humans still had a tendency to exasperate me, and whenever I went without my entourage to announce my identity, the scorn for my origin remained unchanged. It appeared that while Shemlen were willing to allow an elf to bring them salvation, it did not expand their favour further on my kind. Instance does not make a law, as I have unfortunately experienced. There were also the meeting with Tosh and Dirthamel – and was it already more than a year ago? – who showered me with their kindness requesting nothing in return, but these people, willing to raise above the Chantry's teachings and customs, were few. Of course, the clergy has denounced their past policies that led to the Exalted March on Dales – but the memories were still fresh in all of our minds, persecution and lies spread to justify the cause. And they were just as fresh in _human_ minds.

But I couldn't doubt anymore my overall dedication to the cause, even had I not sworn revenge on my friends' graves. The Inquisition needed to prevail, because Corypheus was too dangerous to be left unchecked, the way the rest of the world was willing to do. The red lyrium that made Varric whine so, and drove Templars crazy, was but one of his many tools, and I wasn't keen on finding the remainder of them, certain they would prove a challenging annoyance (I did strongly wish to forget the dragon's existence). Fortunately, it appeared that for now he had no control over the Orb, the artifact that Solas desired, as I remembered from Haven, and that seemed to deter his plans. But how long this state would continue, none could tell…

The next morning I was still in a state of mind dishevel, so I have managed to miss the lack of usual noise accompanying the reconstruction, as well as the absence of people around. Cassandra took me for a stroll, relating general attitudes, those of leadership and those dependent on the Inquisition. She pointed out that finally Corypheus' motives were becoming clearer, why he pursued me so. I snorted, and retorted that it was only the Anchor that engrossed him so, no _divinity_ or _Andrastian favour_ on my part. She smiled patiently in frustratingly _if that helps you sleep at night_ sort of way that ensured me my Herald status was _fortuitously_ secure. I had to fight off the desire to swear vulgarly. But as she led me upwards, the annoyance fled, and instead I grew more and more apprehensive, glancing nervously at the quiet crowd gathered below the elevation. Then Leliana caught my attention, holding what was obviously a purely ceremonial sword – no sane warrior would have wielded this overly ornate thing to battle.

"The Inquisition requires a leader: the one who has already been leading it." Cassandra's voice carried easily in the solemn silence, and I had gasped in shock, finally understanding what this was all about. _I've truly led but for a few moments, and already had enough! Surely, even if we deceived some of these people, Leliana must be aware of the truth behind the find of Skyhold! _

But these concerns had to remain unspoken, out loud I voiced more obvious one. "Perhaps I didn't hear you correctly… A mage at the head of an Inquisition?" _And an elf? But that is of lesser importance, I believe._

"Not a mage. You." Cassandra was relentless, and I wanted to groan in frustration at her avoidance of the issue.

Instead, I clipped in answer with obvious sarcasm, and veiled irritation, crossing my arms defiantly, "I happen to be a mage".

"There will be objections, but times are changing. Perhaps this is what Maker intended." Cassandra was unwavering in her insistence, and gestured for Leliana to come closer. "There would be no Inquisition without you. How it will serve, how you lead – that must be for you to decide."

I closed my eyes briefly, trying to grasp the situation. The events were all leading to this, and I shouldn't have been surprised – this is what Mother Giselle hinted at, this is what Solas intended. It appeared I was the only one who truly did not expect this outcome, when in hindsight it was clear they were growing more and more dependent on my decisions. _No avoiding this now, birdie, _I told myself firmly. _You promised. This is but a small step bringing you closer to fulfilling your vow. _I closed my eyes for a moment, steeling in resolve. _Whatever means necessary._

So I took the sword, and proclaimed my intentions, the only ones I could stand by honestly, "I will lead us against Corypheus, and I will be an ambassador. I'm an elf standing for Thedas. Inquisition is for all."

The cheers erupted from the crowd, a roar of approval and support.

And then it finally hit me.

Inquisitor.

Elgar'nan, have mercy on me.


	11. The Inquisitor Arc Part One

Author's Notes:

Inspired by:

Sun & Moon - Two Steps from Hell

**The Inquisitor Arc Part One – First step**

After all was said and done, Elaine still couldn't believe all that really happened. _Inquisitor. _The position was much grander, entailed greater responsibility and associated power, than her previous Herald title, an euphemism for figurehead that it was. They were happy to use it for garnering support, but were far from giving it any true meaning. Once.

Somewhere along the way things shifted, changed, and she remained oblivious to it, until it all jumped at her out of nowhere, landing on her shoulders. The burden Elaine carried increased tenfold, and while she wished nothing more than to leave the Shemlen matters to Shemlen, for she still cared little for them, now her actions would very much impact her People. Now she couldn't afford carelessness anymore. _What a sorry excuse for an Ambassador I make, yearning to leave it far behind me at moment's notice._

Of course, any further assistance in the menial tasks of restoring their fortress was out of question, now – if she thought her advisors stubborn before, she was forced to revise her previous assumptions. The leader of the Inquisition was _obviously _above the average mortals, and entirely unsuitable for such earthly duties. She grit her teeth in frustration, punched walls until her fists bled, and moved onto the things she was _allowed_ – like making crucial decisions about their future.

Fortunately, the course of action for the next months was decided easily enough, when her as-of-now advisors gathered for the deliberations. The reports taken from Therinfal Redoubt revealed Corypheus' future course of action – a plan to assassinate the ruler of Orlais, empress Celene. It all seemed to lead to her yearly masquerade at Winter Palace, a grand affair that assembled most of the Orlesian nobility. That left them with a couple of months, to gain notice of someone of enough statue to receive the invitation for the gala. Elaine was not looking forward to dealing with aristocracy again, remembering quite vividly how nerve wrecking the journey to Templar fortress was. She also recognized with a bit of cynical humour, that it was unbelievably fortunate that evil masterminds tended to leave the jottings about their super-secret plans freely about, for anyone to find. _Sneaky._

And another issue, less pressing for the moment, but nonetheless worth looking into, was one of the lost wardens, which worried Leliana. Varric introduced Elaine to his friend, _obviously not quite as missing in action as was proclaimed_ Champion of Kirkwall, Hawke. They talked about his search for information about the red lyrium, and the male suggested they contact his informant and friend among Wardens, Stroud, for other clues regarding the order. They also discussed their previous encounter with Corypheus, which ended with the creature dead, the Champion was certain of that. This resulted in uneasy musings on magister's apparent near immortality, for it not only survived being hacked into pieces, but also a sizable explosion.

Soon after the conversation Elaine was forced to use her newfound inquisitorial authority to break apart the fight between enraged Cassandra and the male dwarf. It became clear that Hawke was the reason she questioned, and then brought along Varric in the first place, and the fact that she was lied to was unforgivable in Seeker's eyes. The elven female admitted quietly to herself that she would have also tried protecting her friend, if she were in dwarf's position, but refrained from speaking that aloud, taking neutral stance instead. After a short bout of shouting and curses, fuming warrior left, and slightly worse for the wear Varric sighed, before murmuring something about keeping his crossbow close at hand from now on.

News reached them of Inquisition's soldier squad stranded in Fallow Mire, the force of barbaric Avvar holding them hostage and challenging the hailed Herald's reaction. Elaine was forced to respond, not only unwilling to leave any fit forces captive, but also to preserve her own reputation. The Chantry was already doing their best at besmirching it without any actual proofs of her misdeeds, no need to give them any additional, this time factual, ammunition, like her inferred heartlessness.

Before leaving, she swallowed her pride and slight aversion, and visited her _unofficial_ advisor, trying to keep all the unnecessarily complicated feelings at bay. She found Solas on the lowest floor of central tower, arranging his things in neat piles next to walls. His surprise at her appearance and subsequent plea for guidance, apprised her clearly that he could see through her as easily as ever. Her reluctance to come to him after the recent events was deciphered, and assessed by Solas as a permanent, a result of breach of her beliefs. She decided not to mention her misgivings, agreeing to disagree with him without ever mentioning the issue, and just repeated her questions, forgiving him in these brief moments. The acceptance he showed at her angry reaction was simply disarming.

He pointed out that Cassandra and Varric were more informed to help with judgement, to which she answered plainly "but I respect _you_", a bow to his superior knowledge and a light manipulation at his vanity. He smiled magnanimously, in a _you are not fooling anyone, child_ sort of way, but still apologized for his misinterpretation with a touch of irony. Nonetheless he replied comprehensively, confirming the speculations about Corypheus' aims, as much as anyone could predict the moves of a crazed creature. "No real god need prove himself. Anyone who tries is mad or lying." _Or both._ Reassured by his opinions, she set out to proceed with assignments according to previous resolutions.

Fallow Mire was a sorry place, smelly swamps drenched with rain that reduced vision, and proved close to fatal during their first few bouts, as Elaine slipped more than once on the water saturated ground. Their cloaks weighted heavily on their shoulders, and the elven female felt her movements slow down, as she sloppily parried the strikes aimed at her. Luckily, the opposition was not of the most dangerous sort, corpses awakened by some failed ritual in a futile attempt to purge the plague from these lands. In the end, the disease run its course, leaving only dead in its wake, and mages were unable or unwilling to restore the energies in this place to their natural order. They contained the damage with warding stones, but the area remained uninhabitable, undead rising at first disturbance.

They were doing quite a lot of said _disturbing_ in spite of treacherous pits and depths that threatened to swallow the unwary, for the marshland were rich in rare vegetation, necessary for their incomplete potion assortment. This resulted in multiple fights with the restless haunting the region, during which Elaine's eyes were irrevocably, _dangerously_ drawn to Solas, who appeared unaffected by the uneasy terrain, and performed a spectacularly flawless battle dance. She suffered legitimate envy, watching the surety of his movements, feeling annoyingly inadequate. Even Iron Bull, the most experienced warrior among the group, had a few misses and missteps, but not the male elf.

They dealt with Avvar bandits more swiftly than with the undead, living foes in controlled conditions posing no challenge to the battle hardened company. Elaine stopped for a moment, looking dispassionately at the bodies, and pondered on the changes within her, since not that long ago she would have been distressed by the carnage. With an unhappy sigh she ordered the release and tending to her troops, finding the wonderings pointless – she had undoubtedly altered, a result of pure necessity. The change might be unwelcome, but there was nothing she could have done differently.

The return was a much slower procession of wounded and malnourished victims, who needed a lot of care and caution in their treatment. Elaine busied herself with tending to them, happily _forgetting_ her advisors recommendations to avoid this sort of mundanity. In the quiet, again she questioned herself and her decisions, her avoidance of her unresolved feelings regarding the male elf. _Once more, then. One last time, _she decided resolutely to confront them, watching with sadness life of one of her charges flickering away. _With uncertain tomorrow, I wish to have no regrets. _

She was impatient to deal with her longing decisively, and went to Solas' chambers immediately after their arrival back in Skyfall. Still, directness was not her strongest suit, so she weaved her words around the topic, requesting further explanations of his studies, and _himself, _praying his usual perceptiveness would help him pick up on her true intentions without too much awkwardness. He must have discerned at least some of her intentions, as he smiled in response, "you continue to surprise me." _Myself as well _she thought desperately. _Coward._ "All right, let us talk… Preferably somewhere more interesting than this." He was as usual kindly obliging, and spared her clumsy fumbling on the unknown territory of asking someone out.

They were in Haven, suddenly, but she was so engrossed with the nervousness that threatened to overwhelm her she scarcely realized. They began a slow stroll about the town, unhurried in their steps. "Why here?" escaped her lips, the surroundings strangely untouched by the drama that took place here but a couple of weeks before.

He shrugged, as if the answer should have been obvious. "Haven is familiar. It will always be important to you."

"We talked about that already" she snipped, annoyed he felt it necessary to remind her. But then she remembered herself, and fell quiet, appalled by her own disrespectful response.

Before the silence between them grew strained and uncomfortable, he started speaking again, as it was clear she was unable to do so, for the moment. "I sat beside you while you slept, studying the Anchor."

"I'm glad someone was watching over me." _Thank you for keeping me alive. I never quite said that, did I?_

"You were a mystery" he admitted a bit reluctantly. _Science project then? Nonetheless, I'm grateful. _"You still are." _Hopefully in a slightly different way… _"I ran every test I could imagine, searched the Fade, yet found nothing. Cassandra suspected duplicity. She threatened to have me executed if I didn't produce results."

"Cassandra is like that with everyone", she quipped compassionately, brightening the mood.

He chuckled, forced to agree. "Yes."

"You were never going to wake up. How could you, a mortal sent physically through the Fade?" the edge of past desperation dimmed his voice. "I was frustrated, frightened. The spirits I might have consulted had been driven away by the Breach." _And yet I couldn't see any of that fear remaining when I saw you for the first time _she recounted with curiosity. _What were you frightened of?_

"Although I wished to help, I had no faith in Cassandra… or she in me. I was ready to flee."

"But you… stayed." Elaine supplied, tensely. _Why?_

"I did." He sighed, turning to the green atrocity that scorched the skies. She wondered briefly _but it was closed_, and focused on his words, interested in his answer. "I told myself: one more attempt to seal the rifts. I tried and failed. No ordinary magic would affect them." A dejection in his tone, as if he somehow expected to succeed where other mages failed. "I watched the rifts expand and grow, resigned myself to flee, and then…" he paused, and faced her. "It seems you hold the key to our salvation." There was a regret in his voice now, regret and apology for pushing that onto her. He would spare her if he could, she felt it keenly, and a sudden warmth engulfed her, and tenderness. Her emotions threatened to spill, but he continued talking, so she kept them, and her wavering heart, still, for a while longer. "You had sealed it with a gesture… and right then, I felt the whole world change."

"Felt the whole world change?" she inquired softly, asking about so much more than clarification. His eartips reddened, and she found it endearing, but she held her breath, awaiting his response.

He avoided her gaze, murmuring, "A figure of speech." A flash of irritation in her eyes. _Oh no you don't. No more dodging my questions. _

"I am aware of the metaphor." _Which you well know._ "I'm more interested in… "felt"." _You need to come clear, my Dreamer. This dancing had become tiresome, and I cannot believe you were entirely oblivious of my plight._

"You change… everything." He whispered unwittingly, unable to look at her squarely. _This is as much as I will get, then. _His imperviousness frustrated her, and she was close to giving up, unable to break through his façade. Then, an insane thought crossed her mind, and before she could become afraid of the notion, she kissed him, a brief, uncertain touch of her lips.

He stiffened, clearly shocked by her action, and with a hint of regret she pulled back, knowing she pushed the boundaries far beyond what was normally accepted. She stepped away, ready to leave, and start berating herself for the inappropriateness of her behaviour, but then Solas caught her wrist and firmly pulled her close once more. Before she was able to utter any words, she was kissed back, all reasonable thoughts fleeing her in a flash. Unaware of anything besides sudden heat and passion, and his strong embrace, she melted against him, her heart wildly beating in against her chest. She caught a staggering breath when he let go for a moment, but then he caught her once more, this time more steadily, and at his gentle prodding her mouth opened, letting him in willingly. She lost herself to the sensation, a gentle caress of his hand against her back, and the sultry pleasure from their tongues touching, softly and yet longingly.

The magical moment ended far too soon, when Solas visibly shook himself, forcing his common sense to return. "We shouldn't. It isn't right. Not even here."

Elaine sighed regretfully, asking the expected question, even though she had her suspicions regarding the answer, "What do you mean, "even here"?"

"Where do you think we were?" there was a touch of almost hysterical laugh to his voice, as he inquired with raised eyebrows.

"This isn't real" She recognized the unwelcome truth. _Fade. And I wish you had let me keep my illusions._

"That is a matter of debate… Probably best discussed after you _wake up._"

The words were a whispered command, forcing her to comply, and she rose from the bed, blinking with confusion in recognition of her quarters. The following hours were a test of her patience as she tried to appear mature, and not rush immediately to his side, demanding explanation. At the _maturity _part she failed utterly, giddiness and elation overcoming her whenever she remembered the male's unmasked desire from their shared closeness. But patient she was, going on about her chores as if nothing unusual happened, making more and less important Inquisitorial decisions. One of them left particularly sour taste in her mouth – a letter from her stepsister arrived, addressed to the Inquisition in general, which meant that Josephine was the one to read it first.

_We are deeply concerned for the wellbeing of my dear sister. The letters we sent to her previously have been left without any response, possibly intercepted, so finally we have decided to contact the Inquisition's authorities directly. Hopefully the letter finds her in good health, Keeper Mulasli awaits news with impatience. _

_Frissalia, Apprentice to the Keeper_

The diplomat sent Elaine questioning glance, as she clearly remembered delivering the messages from Lavellan to her hands in person. The female elf bit her lip in annoyance, fervently wishing she could deal with this particular missive as she had done with previous ones – burning them before reading. But that would reveal far too much of her strained relations with the Clan to others for her to be comfortable with, so instead she wrote a short response – _I am well _- for Leliana's people to deliver. She also accepted her suggestion for lending the scouts' assistance during the Clan's hunting with vicious satisfaction, as that would send her stepsister the _leave me alone _message far better than any words of hers could. This gesture, while kind on the surface, was a direct blow undermining Frissalia's intended's authority, implying their inability to feed themselves on their own. Obviously, none of the Shemlen caught onto this hidden meaning, as the Clan's politics were beyond them. And Elaine was thankful for it.

Finally she realized that she was stalling, unnecessarily delaying the meeting with Solas, uncertain about his reaction, and not quite ready to face it. At her sight, he breathed in, and shifted his weight – she took it as an indication of his own nerves, though his words run directly counter to that explanation. "Sleep well?" he asked with a teasing glint in his eyes.

"I've never done anything like that before." She answered with a brief smile, before adding slowly, "on a… number of levels."

That provoked his unrestrained laugh, before he caught himself, and said firmly, "I apologize. The kiss was impulsive and ill considered, and I should not have encouraged it."

The words made her sad, and then, anger rose. His willingness to put what transpired between them aside, as if it was nothing, was aggravating for her, and she snapped, "You _did_ kiss me back." _There are times when your stoicism is much appreciated, but this is not one of them, Dreamer._ For once, the title was more of a cuss than a measure of her respect, as she added ironically, "If I'm pressuring you…" _Though I vividly remember being the one pressed. Tightly._

"No, you are not." He chose to overlook her bite, and her bitterness, and added in a manner of explanation for his illogical behaviour, "I am, perhaps, pressuring myself. It has been a long time, and things have always been easier for me in the Fade."

She looked at him in askance, a plea to continue, and a silent, unspoken wish not to crush her heart. He shook his head in regret, before forcing out hesitantly, "I am not certain this is the best idea. It could lead to trouble."

Disbelief shined through her eyes, as she thought derisively, _what a masterful understatement. _But then she realized, with a glimmer of hope, _that wasn't no, _and her anger disappeared.

"I'm willing to take that chance, if you are" her voice was barely a whisper, quivering emotionally, her eyes more expressive than the rest of her countenance. She longed to touch him, desperately drawn by the compelling look in his eyes. He turned away, clenching his fists to stop himself from something that could not be taken back anymore.

After a moment of almost painful silence, Solas drew a hitched breath, and answered, "I… may be, yes. If I could take a little time to think. There are… considerations." There was a slight, almost inaudible tremble to his tone, telling her he was taking the issue just as seriously as she was, so she withdrew, giving him the space he clearly needed.

"Take all the time you need" she bowed respectfully, to reassure him no matter their uncertain relationship, nevertheless he was the one she deferred to, merit of his superiority in most areas. Still a Hahren, Elder and trusted advisor, even if she was no longer simply Da'len, child and a student, in his eyes.

"Thank you. I am not often thrown by things that happen in dreams."

_I dare say you are not often thrown at all, my Dreamer. _She had a wistful smile on her face, while leaving his place. _We are both uncertain of this, surprisingly enough. I would have sworn you were the one more experienced, but you seem just as lost as I am, Solas. I hope we don't shatter this fragile bond with our ignorance. I hope this becomes more, instead of less._


	12. The Inquisitor Arc Part Two

Author's Notes:

Inspired by:

One Of Us (ft. Julie Elven) [Pandora Vocal Extended] - Ivan Torrent

**The Inquisitor Arc Part Two – Grand Masquerade**

Messenger birds with worrisome news reached them, of a greater dragon pillaging the Hinterlands, their people helpless against its might. The region was one of the largest Inquisition's bower bases, and unrest there slowed down some of the crucial supply routes, so Elaine assembled a team and immediately moved out.

It was a much different journey through the now peaceful area, and mostly under Inquisition's influence, banners and agents greeting them at every turn. One of their forward camps was settled just on the edge of the dragon's lair, soldiers stationed there hiding within the naturally bushy area and observing the beast's habits from afar. They gathered and discussed the battle plan with these scouts, and after careful analysis of the monster, came to the conclusion it would be most prudent to attack it directly in its lair, just after it fed.

Elaine slept fitfully, dragon's roar awakening them just after dawn. The beast hunted, and killed. The female stopped herself from unpleasant pensiveness, whether it was an animal, or intelligent being that fell its pray. She was powerless to stop it, as she observed the winged shadow passing over the forest. It was dangerously beautiful, a stunning peak of nature's evolution in its full, lethal glory, the ultimate hunter and ultimate threat.

They sneaked into the chosen positions, but that was as far as their plans went – that, and a handful supply of burn potions. So they just charged at the gigantic monstrosity, surrounding it and attempting to deal as much damage as possible. And then it was a deadly dance of hitting, ducking, and taking cover, when a single misstep could prove fatal. Dragon fire burned easily through the trees and metals alike, so they strove to avoid it to the best of their abilities. Then there were claws, teeth, and a tail to deal with, and Elaine realized with growing apprehension they were running short on healing potions – but then Blackwall finally broke through the scales on its neck, and with a painful roar the beast started trashing wildly, before finally stilling, taking its last breath.

In the end, they discovered only animal carcasses in the beasts hideout, and Elaine found herself wishing they left the magnificent creature alone, undisturbed. Yes, it was scaring people, but so were the feral wolf packs, and these were actively hunting for them. But then they were swept by the tide of congratulations, the soldiers and villagers euphoric, so she put on a false smile, and accepted the well wishes gracefully.

She kept quiet during the return to the fortress, casting a sorrowful glances at the head if the beast they were hauling along as a trophy, a proof of their mighty deed she was silently ashamed of. In her melancholy, she almost missed a hilarious exchange between Blackwall and Solas, that took place as they were packing up the camp one of the mornings.

"Sera and I were just talking about you. We need you to settle a question of us." Blackwall had a peculiar tone to his voice, one that turned both of elves head in apprehensive suspicion.

At human's pleading look, Solas sighed in exasperation, before stating, "Sera's involved. So this question will be offensive."

"Yes, probably. Sorry." But there was no actual apology in his intonation, more excitement and almost… giddiness? Elaine shook her head in marvel, for a moment forgetting her sorrow, and glancing expectantly at the warrior. She didn't have to wait long for the continuation.

"You make friends with spirits in fade. So… um are there any that are more than just friends?" The suggestive tone was close to obscene, female elf felt her cheeks burning in shame, unused to such… crudity. "If you know what I mean."

"Oh for… really?" Solas was incredulous, his eartips reddened with hidden mortification. Elaine tried to look everywhere but at him, their recent quandary replaying in her mind, and attempted to keep her interest at bay.

"Look, it's a natural thing to be curious about!" The warrior was shamelessly prodding for answer, regardless of clear rebuff.

"For a twelve year old!" barked the male elf with annoyance, casting uneasy glance in Elaine's direction, which she missed, unusually focused on untying the laces holding the folded tent. And then tying them back, after she realized what she had done.

"It's a simple yes or no question" Blackwall was obviously enjoying their apparent discomfort, unrepentant and stubborn as a mule.

"Nothing about the Fade or spirits is simple. Especially not that" replied Solas cuttingly, attempting to rein in his anger, and finish the topic as painlessly as possible.

"Aha! So you do have experience in these matters!" Blackwall almost shined with glee at getting the elusive elf to answer in such careless manner.

"I did not say that." There was a warning undertone, _drop it_, obvious to all of the listeners.

"Don't panic. It'll be our little secret." Unfortunately for Solas, the warden was not one to be easily intimidated, and was having far too much fun to leave the issue at that.

"Ass." The answer was so uncharacteristic for the unfailingly courteous elf, Elaine did a double take, dropping the indifferent façade she valiantly tried to uphold. But instead of annoyance, there was a calculating look in his eyes, and so she turned away once more, wishing she had more experience in the art of conversation, as something must have eluded her.

"Now who's twelve." Laughed heartily Blackwall, and miraculously abandoned the issue without any further comments, for some obscure reason gratified with that response. Elaine shook her head in wonder, glancing at the male elf with obvious awe, before resuming with her tasks. But the elf caught her look, and a self-satisfied smirk crossed his features for a short time, until the usual, aloof expression returned.

Elaine knew her companions quite well by now, and grew fond of them, with the sole, annoying exception of Sera. Solas and Iron Bull played a game of mind chess, which she had troubles following, lost after first few moves, never having been particularly proficient with the game. From time to time Solas was kind enough to draw a board for her, when they stopped for the night, and show her the moves, but even then she was still far from grasping the complexities these indicated. In between, they butted heads over the moralities of the Qun, which sometimes came dangerously close to outright fights, but no intervention was ever necessary.

After the memorable conversation between Solas and Blackwall, she took care to ensure they spent a few months apart, unwilling to test the elf's patience with the coarse warrior, lest she finds a frozen statue in his place one day. And she attempted to separate the male from Sera, which proved futile, as the elf soon found creative ways to dodge the restrictions without breaking any of her direct orders. With a heavy sigh, she gave up, realizing that out-roguing the rogue was an impossibility for her. Varric was also a good company for the warrior, helping him, and all of them, loosen up considerably during their often strained travels, when there were people to save and things to kill, and world in general was being a hassle, or in Elaine's words,_ a finicky bitch to satisfy_.

Vivienne and Dorian had a few conflicts in the beginning, but soon enough grew to honestly like each other, and she usually took them along together, since Vivienne had a tendency to be overbearing, and the rest of the company grew tired of her quickly.

Cole's stay proved to be… problematic, as in spite of the passage of time none of the companions quite accepted the spiritual being of unknown nature, with the exception of Solas, who became his sole advocate in the party. The boy's tendency to randomly disappear and reappear did him no favours, as even Leliana was stressed by her scouts inability to keep track of him. Elaine was forced to use her Inquisitorial authority for others, especially enraged Vivienne, to stand down and leave it well enough alone. She personally liked Cole, even if his opinions made little sense to her, but then again she had no ability to see directly into another's soul, and was sure the boy was simply omitting some of the explanation, perceiving far more than simple words.

Now, Sera on the other hand, was Elaine's constant headache. Her tendency for random pranks on their people was one thing, but she also stole stuff from visiting nobles _just because, _and Josephine was constantly apologising and smoothing out the matters. And now was especially the time when they needed their goodwill, but no words could reach the female archer, unrepentant in her ways.Elaine followed up on most of the Red Jenny leads, some proving useful, some not at all, and she was on the verge of throwing the other elf out permanently. But that would be easier, and Sera had her uses, so Inquisitor reigned in her temper and preserved. _For now._

After their victorious arrival back in Skyhold, Josephine used this opportunity to hold a grand feast in the Inquisitor's honour, and spread the fame of their success amongst the nobility. Again Elaine had to endure the subtle fawning of the aristocrats, and be on guard of its double edged nature – for on the other side of the blade, poison run thick. It was a noisy, tiresome affair that garnered a lot of interest from both Orlesian and Ferelden privileged, but that in itself turned out to be troublesome, for Orlesians were noticeably disdainful towards the so-called dog-lords, while Fereldens were openly criticizing Orlesian presumed cowardice. Three duels took place, and only at Elaine's behest they did not turn into a deathly game, as the nobles reluctantly agreed to stop at first blood, respecting their host's request. The lady diplomat narrowly prevented a few more from taking place, expertly diverting the aristocrats attention from the actual or imagined slights with an array of well-worded flattery, or wine. The gala lasted till daybreak, and Elaine as its heart had to, unfortunately, remain until the last guests left for their sought out rest.

She dearly longed to follow in their steps, but found her restless mind wandering, split in so many directions that sleep was an impossibility. So she strolled around the grounds, inhaling chilly, morning air and trying to calm her rattled thoughts enough to lie peacefully. Finally, her steps unwittingly led her to Solas' chambers, and she found herself staring at the closed door hesitantly, certain he was yet to wake.

She sighed, and turned to leave, but then the door opened, and the male let her in with a wordless, welcoming gesture. She was unsurprised he heard her, his keen senses no secret among the group, more interested why he was up at this unholy hour. Feeling her questioning glance, Solas shrugged indifferently, inclining his head in the main halls direction, and her eyes widened, _of course, the noise of the feast must have been a hassle, if he could hear my steps at his entrance._

She came seeking his companionship, not an answer for their previous, awkward exchange, and to make that clear, she dropped onto the floor in cross-legged position, stretching her wearied joints. After setting comfortably against the wall, she demanded lightly from him to explain more of his Fade adventures, and spirits he encountered.

Figuring out her forced cheerfulness for a false front it was, he related a warm story about a being he called a Matchmaker, who tended to the fragile hearts of young maidens, finding them kind, gentle significant others. The tale was a heartfelt, tender consolation, and she took in this spirit, awash with gratitude at his subtle encouragement. She left after the story finished, loath to trespass his hospitality, in a significantly improved mood, ready to face her inner demons. He made a jerking move when she was at the door, almost as if to stop her in her tracks, but let go, with a conflicted expression.

It took a long time before she was ready to look at the dragon's head, exposed proudly in the front foyer, without guilty conscience. The beast's death provoked other unpleasant memories to rise from the deepest corner of her mind, Frissalia's recent letter not yet forgotten. Whenever she passed it, faces of her City Elf friends swirled in front on her eyes, some of them blurred and unclear after the passage of time. She promised to herself, if one day comes a chance to save another of its glorious kind, she will do so.

The frustrating event produced the expected results, and Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons expressed his desire to invite the Inquisition for his cousin's planned gala. Leliana's spies apprised them that the Great Game for the throne was being played, and the royal Chevalier intended to use the Inquisition's presence as a distraction, possibly even a stone tipping the balance of power in his favour. Elaine shrugged, uninterested, as with their main objective in sight the noble plays were of little importance to her, and focused on other tasks, some more pressing than others. Josephine roped her into dancing lessons, after she revealed her inability during the party organized in her honour. While the female elf expressed her doubts as to the necessity of all that, she grew to enjoy the intricate steps of the aristocratic waltzes, and diligently listened to the instructors. A cynical part of her mind recognized, _at least it's not killing people. _It was unlikely the actual affair would turn out as innocent as the preparations for it were.

Days passed, and as the event grew close, the lady ambassador began fretting, randomly assaulting them with etiquette advices and warnings. Elaine rolled her eyes, _why do you think I chose Vivienne, Cassandra and Solas as my entourage? Vivienne would be an immense help in avoiding any social missteps, and as a well-known socialite will open many doors for us. Cassandra with her noble lineage has previous experience, and while Nevarran court is less formal than Orleasian, I have no doubts she will behave, regardless of her distaste of such events. And Solas… _she sighed, and conceded before herself honestly, _Solas will be there because I want him there, although I have no doubts there's nothing the nobles can throw at him that would break his impenetrable façade. _And she laughed, remembering one instance when that happened. _I'm quite certain no one will try kissing him, after all._

Then their garments came, and Elaine screwed her face in disgust at the genderless uniform, which did no favours to her lean figure, and in spite of numerous fittings was hanging a bit in the bust area. _I am an elf who, in servant rags, managed to catch Templar attention with my grace, and I will learn to walk in this… thing… even if it kills me. _She swore viciously, eyeing herself in the mirror with irritation. _Maybe I am a bit vain, but really, even my battle robes look more flattering._ She knew, logically, the reasoning behind the attire, a show of integrity of the Inquisition, but that didn't mean she had to like it. Actually, she hated it. Vehemently. More, when she remembered the illustrious gowns other females would wear for the occasion.

After a few hours spent in front of the mirror, learning the fabrics movement and reactions, she became tired, and after changing the offending clothes into something more presentable, she went in search of Solas. The elf was deep in thoughts, and a few seconds passed before he realized she came in. Elaine savoured the moment, unashamedly admiring his elegant profile and precise, careful movements that were so very much an expression of his dignified and deliberate self.

"Inquisitor" he greeted her, and she bowed in a show of regard. "I was…" There was a moment of hesitant silence, she waited for him to continue. Then, he came to some decision, and indecisiveness vanished. "Do you have a moment?" He gestured for her to follow, and they went to one of the more secluded balconies, possibly the furthest away from prying eyes, with the sole exception of her own quarters. But these would be too… intimate, so she refrained from making that suggestion.

"What were you like, before the Anchor?" _Bitter… and busy. _She sadly recalled the commotion of the Conclave, people rushing with their duties, barely able to catch some food and sleep. But that was not what he was asking for, so she kept quiet, as he clarified. "Has it affected you? Changed you in any way? Your mind, your morals, your… spirit?"

"I don't believe so…" _Circumstances did. The Inquisition most certainly did. And… you did. But not the Anchor itself. _

"Ah."

There was a brief, thoughtful pause, and she grew uncertain. "Why do you ask?"

"You show wisdom I have not seen since… since my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the Fade." He answered, carefully choosing his words, with moments of deliberation that made her nervous. "You are not what I expected."

She sighed, dejected. "Sorry to disappoint." _In the end, I did overstep my bounds, it seems…_

"It's not disappointing, it's… most people are predictable." Solas was quick to deny her assumption, and her heart flew in agitated flutter. "You have shown subtlety in your actions, a wisdom that goes against everything that I expected." She had to stop herself from chuckling. _My kiss was decidedly dripping with subtlety, but let us not be picky. I am being complemented… I think?_

"If the Dalish could raise a spirit like yours… Have I misjudged them?" He glanced at her in apprehension, and just like that, her amusement vanished, as she turned away from him, deciding on her answer.

Finally, she whispered _"_You did not", with a sad smile on her face as she faced him again, letting him make out of her answer what he would. The Dalish _rejection_ shaped her, she was an outcast for most of her life, but she wasn't about to tell him her pathetic life story. She wouldn't be able to survive his pity, and the tale was nothing but pitiful.

Solas pondered on that for a bit, as usual reading far more than simply the words she spoke. "Perhaps that is it. I suppose it must be." His confidence was back, her response clearly confirming some of his suspicions. "Most people act with so little understanding of the world." He sent a meaningful glance in her direction, and her heart fluttered once more. "But not you."

She fell unnaturally still, asking timidly, "so what does it mean, Solas?"

"It means I have not forgotten the kiss." He smiled with a touch of embarrassment at the admission, and she moved closer to him, uncertain of her actions, and yet unable to resist the draw.

"Good" was barely audible, _for neither did I, _and she touched him lightly, asking for permission. Again he hesitated, moving away, ready to leave. She hastily raised her hand and caught his arm impulsively, pleading with him softly, "don't go."

"It would be kinder in the long run." The absolute conviction of his voice made her wonder what unspeakable secrets he held, to be so certain of the inevitability of the consequences. And then all coherent thoughts fled, as he turned and enfolded her in his arms. "But losing you would…" he did not finish, lowering his mouth onto hers, and she suddenly felt lightheaded, so happy she almost believed she could take flight. This time she was slightly more prepared, and as the kiss deepened, she leant in closer, responding to his demand with instinctive submissiveness, allowing him to teach her yet another dance, one where their passion translated into touch, caress, lost breath and a wild rush of blood. At first his moves were gentle, guiding her onto this unknown territory, but as a quiet moan escaped her, Solas lost some of his control, and pressed more roughly, bringing her even closer, their bodies entwined, their surroundings almost sparkling with electricity from the tension between them.

She felt a loss of contact almost like a physical blow, and made a low noise of protest when he disentangled them decisively. There was a regretful smile on his face, and he caressed her cheek in a tender apology. "Ar lath, ma vhenan." Elaine let him go, some part of her subconsciousness realising this was as far as he would be pushed, for now. She took in a rattled breath, and then laughed, elated, and then amused, as a resolve formed within her.

_I must get Leliana to obtain me some scrolls teaching the ancient Elvhen, or I'll never get anywhere with him, as long as he insists on confessions in the language I understand but a few words of. _

They didn't talk about the changes in their relationship any more, as the visit to Winter Palace loomed on the immediate horizon, all preparations finished top notch or as close to that as possible. The journey to Halamshiral was almost a procession, so many of their people were deemed far too indispensible to be left behind. Leliana was uneasy with the emergency, makeshift contact network they set up, murmuring something about haste making only waste, but she had to make do with what was available. Josephine drifted between euphoria and apprehension, and her mood swings were keeping all of her staff on edge. Cullen was grumbling about the absurdity of bringing along a commander with no army to speak of, as they elected to take only a small detachment of their forces, hoping to avoid the ignition of hostilities between them and the royal guard, who was certain to be numerous for the occasion.

While Winter Palace, where the celebrations were taking place, was technically placed in Halamshiral, the reality was that the grounds of the estate spanned over many miles, an hour of hard riding away from the city walls. Arrangements had to be done beforehand for stationing of their soldiers and quarters for the more prominent Inquisition members, and then there was a one, final council to ensure everything was in place, their forces ready to react at moment's notice should something go dreadfully wrong, and they were off.

_Time to face the music._

The duke was a surprisingly straightforward person, not concealing his aversion towards this event, or the Great Game in general. Although Elaine supposed he was hardly the most unbiased person to make any judgement on the issue, considering he had lost the throne because of his inability to comprehend its rules. No matter his misgivings, he was gallant enough to wait at the gates for her arrival, and they exchanged brief greetings, before he let them to fend off for themselves until official introductions were to be made. It smoothed their initial welcome to the highest echelon of Orleasian society considerably, their position as the guests of the famed, well-respected and _feared_ Chevalier established by that short interaction.

The place was a vision in white and gold, a typical Orlesian extravagance of overabundance of intricate carvings, sculptures, and other fine decorations that gave off the feeling of wealth and prosperity. Elaine wandered through the carefully arranged gardens, thinking, _I would have liked to bring Dorian along as well, he would have felt right at home here. A Tevinter mage in a Winter Palace, what a scandal! But alas, Dorian has a tendency to give back as good as he gets, and we are here to make steadfast allies, not play the political game. I'll just have to make certain we steal some of the wine, that ought to appease him after being left behind._

The official introduction was a stiff affair, Herald announcing their names with pretentious haughtiness, and she bit her lip in silent anger when Solas was referred to as her servant. Once again, Shemlen were overlooking her origin, unwilling to face the prospects of having to treat an elf as an equal, at the same time eagerly putting others in their _rightful_ place. _I wouldn't bat an eyelash, had this place burned. Along with all these hypocrites. _Celene was proudly aloof, clad in heavy velvets and brocades, a fantasy from the Winter Queen legends, inclining her head slightly in royal greeting. Elaine could almost hear the grinding of Gaspard's teeth, as he performed official bow of the lesser to the better, the stress lines and clenched fists an obvious sign of his annoyance. She herself held no warm feelings towards the ruthless woman, remembering the stories her charges once related about burning of Halamshiral's Alienage. She couldn't be gone from this place soon enough.

They had very little actual information about the planned assassination. Leliana consulted her agents in some mysterious way that left them befuddled as to when and how precisely that happened, and brought back conflicting news. Literally all of the players in this particular power struggle were under suspicion, even, to some degree, Celene herself. First and foremost was Duke Gaspard, whose designs for the throne were secret to none, and who had private ties to Tevinter. Why, even their own presence here was a result of him playing some complicated scheme. There was also Briala, an elven ambassador, and a spymaster, who in spite of her falling out with the empress, obviously had some vital information the ruler did not want shared, or she couldn't have been here. That, and some sort of protective measures – like releasing the said secret, should her life be compromised - as she wasn't dead yet. Celene herself had made suspicious arrangements that included some convoluted dealings with Tevinters, and there was a cautionary saying about a impaling yourself with your own sword. The Council of Heralds, who once approved of Celene's elevation to the throne, were now merely a terrified bundle of nerves, most of them shaken and uncertain of their and their country's future, quite unlike what their illustrious titles ought to have meant. An unknown factor in this entangled mess was the magical advisor to the empress, an apostate with whom Leliana had previously encountered, and was obviously at odds with. She remained vague as to the nature of their meeting, and Elaine didn't have neither time, nor will, to pry.

She tried listening in on the servant's conversations, most of them so loyal to Briala it was shocking no one realized, or _cared_,but in the end she was far too conspicuous in her strict uniform that distinguished her both from the attendants and the nobles, to hear anything of note. Sneaking around the palace was a risk at all times, and they took care to be gone only for short moments, so that their presence wouldn't be missed, trying to find out more about the witch that was claimed to have enchanted the empress. They uncovered only frightened whispers about servant quarters, an evidence that the witch was an apostate interested in ancient lore, which they already knew, and, to Elaine's amusement, the fact that Gaspard tried to threaten the Council of Heralds into submission. She smirked internally, thinking _I couldn't imagine how in the world that went wrong. Falon'Din, have mercy on overconfident fools, for there's none for them to be had on this plane._

And then, she met Morrigan, the famed magical advisor. The woman was straightforward in her actions, if not in her speech, and Elaine felt keenly she was not the enemy they were looking for. She gave them the means to access the areas to the palace that were closed to them before, and the elven female didn't hesitate to look a gift horse in the mouth, immediately assembling her entourage to follow on the lead.

They found bodies, and many of them, along with Venatori agents and Gaspard's knife in one of the Herald's backs. The battle that ensued was quick and brutal, the Tevinters were not expecting such a skilled assaulters. They prepared for the guards, and got themselves a mostly magical attack, which crushed them in a matter of seconds.

Vivienne was quick to accuse the Duke of duplicity after the truth behind the knife was revealed, but Elaine was far from convinced. _Killing them defeats the purpose behind the threats, and I'm quite certain he was ready to wait for their compliance, tonight. This Game is far from over, and one does not use decisive means at the beginning, revealing one's hand. _

They searched the vicinity for more clues, and only Solas' warning prevented them from being completely surprised by Briala's unexpected appearance. The lady ambassador had surmised the situation with calculatingly raised eyebrow, before swiftly offering her assistance, and her information network, in exchange for help at getting the throne. Elaine was startled by both her forthrightness and audacity, but kept her doubts to herself as the other woman appealed for the sake of all elves in the empire, using their common origin as a bargaining point.

After they returned to the party, inconspicuously cleaning away the blood from their hands, Elaine was assailed by her worried advisors, who observed the suspicious movements around the buildings, but were unable to guess at the reason. Praying internally for patience, she related their findings, mostly confirming their original knowledge about the complexity of the situation, a viper's nest they willingly stepped into. It was becoming distressingly clear she would be responsible for tonight's battle's outcome, more so than their initial assumptions indicated.

Leliana fell deep in thought, before pointing out in carefully measured words that they didn't necessarily need Celene on the throne, _or alive,_ supplied Elaine within, by the night's end. Josephine gasped, outraged, but Cullen agreed after short deliberations, recognizing the empress' apparent weakness in leading the country, throwing in his support behind Gaspard. The lady ambassador gathered her wits, and argued for the wellbeing of the empire, guaranteed by the continued rule of the current monarch. Leliana, on the other hand, glanced at her Inquisitor shrewdly, and voiced her endorsement for Briala, hiding an all-knowing smirk. Elaine crossed her arms, glaring at her in annoyance. _Freaking spies. That's simply disturbing. _Of course,the spymaster read her intentions correctly, as she was planning to back Briala all along. There was a pang of gratitude however, at not having to be the one to first raise this option, and her glare subsided, as she sighed in defeat and revealed her decision to her advisors. There was no outsmarting Leliana, and Elaine was learning to give up on hiding her true objectives. It was positively meaningless endeavour.

The conversation left her emotionally drained, she felt downright exhausted with the whole affair, and the evening was far from over. She remained a few steps behind, to converse with the male elf, calm her high strung nerves and enjoy his sarcastic humour, which did not leave her defensive, as opposed to some other's people's comments. He was enjoying it all, the atmosphere full of suspense and double meanings, surprisingly not at all bothered by the uneven treatment the nobles showed the two of them. She asked for a dance, which he laughingly declined, admonishing her lightly that she would cause a scandal, _and that would be disadvantageous for our goals for tonight. You don't have to treat me like a half wit, my Dreamer. _Yet she felt like a petulant child, who had been denied a candy, and pouted a little at his rejection. Seeing that, he smiled magnanimously and offered to take her for a spin after everything was over, causing a happy smile to reappear on her face. 

Elaine sauntered away, taking care to appear as graceful as possible, just to tease him a little, a small revenge for her spoilt plans. Even in this genderless attire, she felt the heated glances of the males she passed, and quietly rejoiced that her long hours of practice were not without a reason. As she was passing through the crowd in search of Vivienne, the hostess of the ball, Gaspard's sister, Florianne the Chalons, approached her and asked for the next waltz. _Remember, lass, when dealing with nobles, never give them a straight answer, but spark their interest all the same, and they will reveal more in hopes of reciprocation, _Elaine recalled Tosh's wise smile, as she accepted the proposal with only a hint of uncertainty.

They weaved words in deliberate ambiguity, dancing both in the ballroom and on the edge of their true intentions, never giving away more than false hints about their inclinations. Elaine was left none the wiser when the music quietened, but then the duchess strongly suggested a visit to the palace's second floor, outright informing her of her brother's intended duplicity, and claiming the proof could be found there. The elf bristled internally, a warning bells ringing in her head at the sudden change in the human's demeanour and tactic. _Why would you betray your brother, Florianne? Had I been his ally in this venture, your carelessness could cost you dearly. _She wouldn't trust the noble as far as she could throw her, and this freebie made her even more suspicious, she wished they had more information on this unexpected player, with unknown motivations towards the Game.

In the end Elaine decided to follow up on this dubious favour, with cautious confidence that her team could take whatever the fate decided to throw their way. _I doubt Corypheus and his fallen god will make an appearance tonight, and if we could bring down the mighty dragon, _she firmly squashed a pang of regret, _then there's nothing this selfish princess can do that would be truly dangerous._

They searched the top floor carefully, avoiding the section the duchess was prompting them to visit, and found many shocking answers for their questions. A female elf cast doubts on Briala's devotion to the elven cause, whispering about her involvement with Celene during the Halamshiral's tragedy. Elaine was so outraged she almost went back on her decision to support the female. Another man revealed empress' plans to rid of her opposition by force, scheming to get Gaspard to attack her, and respond with an assault of her own. _What a bunch of holy spirits they make, they deserve one another thousand times over._ After all these facts came to light, Elaine returned downstairs and confronted each and every one of the major players, giving them ammunition against each other, while keeping her own cards against them tight.

Finally, she willingly sprang the duchess' trap, and she was scarcely surprised to find her as Corypheus' puppet, orchestrating the events according to her master's tune. The human noble failed to hurt them, her soldiers unable to face the full scope of their abilities, as Elaine predicted, but they unexpectedly succeeded in delaying them enough, so that they barely made it back in time for the main attraction of the evening.

They rushed to the main hall, where the empress was readying for her speech, and Elaine caught a sight of her adversary on the opposite balcony. She gazed dispassionately at Florianne, a mocking bow to applaud her unsuccessful, but nonetheless close attempt, and raised an ironically saluting glass in the empress' direction. _I won't lift a finger in the harpy's defence. The Inquisition has no need of her in particular, and I had not forgotten the fires in Halamshiral. _She ordered her troops to stand down until the assassination of the empress, stepping in only after the deed was done, protecting the shaken Gaspard from his sisters' traitorous, second blow.

The events unfolded quickly after that, and soon enough the new, future emperor was decided, with Briala at his back taking the reins of real power in the empire.

Elaine was astounded by how easily the Orleasian nobility was ready to bury their former ruler and move on with the celebrations in the honour of another one, as if they had not just witnessed a cold blooded murder of the empress and most of her entourage. She took a moment's respite on one of the balconies, away from the congratulations offered for Inquisition's prompt reaction, thoroughly disgusted by the whole affair. She twirled the red wine in her glass, playing with it on the edge of her nimble fingers. _Fare thee well, Celene. May you gain wisdom on the other side of the Veil._

Solas found her there, a bottle of wine in his hands, and she smiled, grateful at how well he understood her. "I'm not surprised to find you out here."

"It's been a long day" she admitted, allowing him to refill her glass.

He put a hand on her waist comfortingly, and cast a thoughtful glance behind, a festivities still in full swing. "For everyone, I'd imagine." _And yet they pretend otherwise, _she thought cynically."It's nearly over now. Cullen is giving the men their marching orders as we speak."

She drank the remainder of her wine, and threw the glass behind her, a sound of it shattering on the path below barely audible, and readied herself to leave. Suddenly, he twirled with astonishing elegance and fell into a deep bow in front of her, hand outstretched in her direction, saying with an edge of laughter "Come, before the band stops playing. Dance with me."

That coaxed a smile out of her, a promise fulfilled, and she whispered tentatively, "I'd love to." For a while the world stopped existing, stopped demanding, as she allowed herself to be led, feeling secure in his hold, a precious moment when she was not a leader but a follower.


	13. The Inquisitor Arc Part Three

Author's Notes:

Inspired by:

Breath and Life – Audiomachine

**The Inquisitor Arc Part Three – Of Intrigues and Wardens**

Elaine had an affectionate smile on her face as she lay down for a well-deserved rest after the trying events of the past hours. Solas turned out to be a spectacular dancer, easily comparable with the best of her instructors, and the time they spent in graceful twirls, deliberate steps and soft touches was one she would not forget easily. At the end of the sublime waltz, the elf brought her hand to his lips, brushing them against it delicately, before gallantly escorting Elaine to her quarters.

The night was finally over, and she even managed to catch some sleep, yet Elaine felt like some matters remained largely unresolved, or at least not set up entirely according to her will. Regardless of exhaustion, her mind refused to let her rest anymore, and after a few moments of futile struggle she rose with the first dawning light, and started nervously pacing across her rooms. She mulled uncertainly over the outcomes of her decisions, in between recalling, with a touch of smile, the dance with Solas. Gaspard was set up as a puppet, with Briala as the grey eminence – and yet the Inquisitor couldn't bring herself to trust the scheming elf. The knowledge she acquired brought to light the apparent egoism of the former ambassador, and truth to be told, Elaine was repulsed by its extent. Finally, she decided to play her own little game, try to ensure the events would enfold the way she wanted them to, by pulling the strings in the appropriate directions.

As her first step, she visited Gaspard in his quarters. The Chevalier was preparing for a swift coronation, but at the sight of her, immediately dismissed his attendants with a jittery flick of his hand. The flock of people passed her at the door, most bowing in deference to her position, a few skittishly jumping away as she glanced at them briefly. The reactions towards her changed so drastically, she had to fight a sardonic smile, remembering barely affording their reluctant following of her instructions, but a few hours before.

"Inquisitor, my pleasure," Gaspard spoke in greeting, a purposeful stride taking him across the room. The male poured himself a drink from his liquor cabinet, in elegant motion prompting her to join him. She inclined her head in acquiescence, and took an offered glass of a very good brandy. "Do not presume me ungrateful, after all you have done for me. I have not forgotten, I owe you my life, and my current position, even if…" he paused, searching for words "the restrictions placed upon it are not according to my taste."

_A roundabout way of saying you hate being a figurehead_ decided Elaine, an enigmatic smile of no consequence gracing her features. _Orleasians!_ Feigning indifference, she glanced at the rich tapestries on the walls, taking a sip of the alcohol. It was, of course, delectable, and she savoured the exquisite taste shamelessly. "There's nothing that guarantees permanency of the arrangement, seeing as it displeases my lord so much." She stole a glance at the future emperor, and had to hide a smirk at the sudden tension of his posture, even if his face betrayed none of his thoughts.

"Not permanent?" he inquired after the silence between them stretched, a slight hitch of his breath a tell-tale sign of his immense interest.

"Briala offered the Inquisition the considerable resources at her disposal. So, for the moment, she remains indispensible. However…" she faced him with a light smirk "should someone, say, repossess them, a new… _agreement_… could be reached."

He pondered on the issue, before asking straightforwardly, "Why would you, Inquisitor, depose one of your kind?" She came close to underestimating him, but this man had indeed survived many years in court, and was not without a considerable wit of his own. And he was also a general, had learned that sometimes the simplest manoeuvres were the most effective, even when it came to the Great Game, where one had to judge the motivations of others.

The question required an answer, so she gave him one, close enough to the truth not to rouse his suspicions, "Why should I honour our common origin, when she does not?" And, more slowly and deliberately, trying to win him over, "Truth to be told, I would have you, my lord, as a sole ruler" his eyes widened at that, losing his thus far unaffected composure "had it not been for the aforementioned additional gains she brings to the table." She glanced unseeingly at the massive portrait of his father, hanging above the fireplace. "Briala and I have several… unresolved issues."

"What if I were to inform our mutual acquaintance of this… offer of yours?" as far as bluffs went, this one was pretty weak, and she chuckled, conveying her knowledge about the emptiness of the threat. Nonetheless, Elaine decided that maybe informing him more closely about her awareness would finally sway him.

"First of all, I highly doubt she would ever believe it. Rather, our friend would suspect you are trying to drive a wedge between her and Inquisition," he had to concede that point, so he nodded, and she continued, "Secondly, I think my lord himself knows what's in your best interest, and the crux of the matter is that as easily as Inquisition placed Briala on the seat of power, she can be by the said Inquisition removed."

"You've given me much to think about, my lady" he replied with a calculating glint, effectively dismissing her. She bowed lightly, and exited the chambers – even if his power was merely a nominal one, the customs had to be observed.

The second conversation she prepared more carefully for, summoning Briala to her quarters. To shake the elf, she would require every advantage, and the familiarity of the surroundings calmed her down in a way being in former ambassador's territory would have unsettled her. She attempted at paperwork that was brought along from Skyhold, but it ended being only shuffling papers about mindlessly, without any actual decision being made. Most of the crucial matters were handled by Josephine and Leliana, and discussed during the council meetings, these documents only needed her signature – and probably not even that, but she long since learned her advisors were devious in their ways of ensuring she was aware of everything that went on. Whenever Leliana suspected her Inquisitor stopped actually reading the reports, and instead skimmed over them, she would sneak in some ridiculous request, that brought either a lot of embarrassment or trouble, and left it for Elaine to take care of. "My, but Inquisitor, you did sign the order, didn't you" she would say in annoyingly sweet tone of voice, a fake innocence in her countenance. And so Elaine quickly learned not to sign at all, rather than to do so uninformed of the contents.

A knock on her door snapped her back to attention, and she allowed her guest in. "You've requested my presence, Inquisitor?" Briala did a marvellous job at hiding her emotions, far better than Gaspard. Her host couldn't read her at all.

"Yesterday's events were so hectic, I thought to ensure we were on the same page, so to speak" Elaine stood up from behind the desk, and rang a bell for servants to bring the prepared refreshments. They came in a matter of seconds, trays filled with midday snacks and tea to accompany them, and left in a flurry of bows in her direction, and nods to the lady ambassador – a small, pointed reminder who was the one in charge, for the moment. She gestured towards the table invitingly, taking one of the armchairs next to it.

Her guest decided to sit next to her, rather than opposite way, and Elaine hid a satisfied smirk at this unwitting show of Briala's stance. "I've heard of your visit to Gaspard" the other female began the conversation, before silence grew uncomfortable, snatching a fruit from the plate.

"Ah, the news travels fast" Elaine kept her expression carefully neutral, taking a cup of tea, and inhaling the scent. "That is heavenly, you must try it." She changed the tone of the conversation in an attempt to throw the other elf off. Briala just sent her pointed glance, and she sighed, changing her tactic to a less subtle one. "I discussed with him the possibility that one day you may not be quite as _essential._"

"Is that a threat, my lady?" the former ambassador remained laudably expressionless while enquiring.

Elaine took a swallow from the cup, in a show of nonchalance. "No, it's more in nature of a… warning." She stood up, turned away from the other female, and looked at the vast gardens spreading around the residence, as her voice grew colder with each word. "I've found out about your… involvement… with Celene during the massacre in Halamshiral. No, don't try to explain" she raised her hand, preventing any interruptions "for while there _is_ a remote possibility you really couldn't have prevented the ordeal from happening, I'm quite certain you could have easily mitigated some of the damage by warning them." And she added with clear contempt, "but you self-serving, egoistical creature decided to remove yourself from the situation all together."

"My lady…" Briala tried to cut in, but Inquisitor easily overrode her objections.

"I don't want to listen to your excuses." She breathed in, before stating firmly, "We have to establish a working relationship, because in spite of all that, I still believe you are the best shot for Orlesian elves to improve their situation. You would do well not to disappoint me." Elaine drank the remainder of her tea, and put it back on the table with a loud, dramatic clang of the china. "So, I've decided to come clear with my expectations towards your rule." Her voice rang of steel, as she finally faced Briala, a sharp smile on her face. "Firstly, there's a minor issue of a mad Magister running around and performing the evil, magisterly acts – the Inquisition will require Empire's support, which you _will_ provide. Possibly, in the future, some other matters arise, but for now, that takes precedence." Briala nodded in agreement, as this had already been discussed. "And secondly, should I find out you mistreated the People in any way, intentionally or by negligence, I will personally hunt you down, and give Gaspard the full authority of the crown. There won't be second chances."

"You mean the Dalish?" Briala had clearly gotten over her initial shock, and was all business now, though she took no stance on the issue.

The Inquisitor snorted, irritated by her discourser's elusiveness. "No, I mean all of the Elvhen" Elaine used the archaic form of the world to underline her meaning "under your jurisdiction."

Briala took a bite of a roast to delay the answer. "I was under the impression the Dalish cared little for the City dwellers" she voiced her surprise, avoiding any declarations, and attempting to divert the conversation.

"You will find that making any assumptions about me based on my lineage is misleading" sneered Elaine, thwarting the intention. "Well? Do we have an accord?"

"My lady is quick to accuse me of being self-serving, but clearly we are not that different" changed the topic the other female, crossing her arms in defiance.

Elaine sighed, but allowed this diversion, in spite of her interested where this would lead, "Oh? And what is that assumption based on?"

"My lady could have saved Celine's life" Briala stared accusingly at the Inquisitor. "But instead you have decided, clearly with Inquisition's welfare in sight, to enthrone a puppet emperor with a chosen watch dog on a leash, which obviously goes against the well-being of the Empire. Is that not just as self-serving as my own plans?"

"I could have just as easily made a puppet of Celene, without a necessity of a guard dog, had I wished for it" snapped the lady in question in response. At the obvious question in Briala's eyes _Well, why haven't you?_, she recollected herself, and decided that maybe this once honesty would serve better than ambiguity, a glimpse at her true character to scare the other party into submission.

Elaine began pacing around the room, while speaking. "Were you aware I was sent to Haven to spy on the Conclave by my Clan? I was to report any news on the proceedings, and especially, on the outcome" it was always best to start at the beginning of the story, she believed. Briala was obviously confused as to where all that was leading, but kept politely silent, curious. "I've met many City elves there, servants to the powerful who had a stake in the talks. They were very helpful towards my mission, and warm in their welcome of me" She closed her eyes briefly to chase away the grief. "Among them was a beautiful youngling, thirteen of age, from Halamshiral. He was forced to serve as a… bedmate to one of the lordlings, after his parents died during the massacre." She clenched her fists, remembering her initial outrage, when this matter was revealed. "He perished, along with many others, when the Conclave was destroyed. This boy, child really, had to become a whore at such young age to keep himself fed, and he wouldn't have been there in the first place had Celene not decided to preserve her weak throne by employing such drastic measures."

Elaine took a deep breath, recollecting herself once more. "You see, the reason Celene died last night was unrelated to any supposed agenda of mine." This time, her smile had a dangerous edge to it. "She died, because I've long since regarded her as my enemy, and allowing the assassination to happen was only so her blood doesn't fall _directly_ on my hands. But this is how I am really, Briala – generous and loyal to my friends, unforgiving and cruel to my enemies. No pretences now." She glanced away for a short while, stopping in her tracks, and adding firmly, "I'm really allowing you a long leash, here. I truly don't care what happens to the Shemlen, leave Orlais in shambles if you so desire. But make one step off the line, and I will go after you with everything I have. _Do_ we have an understanding?"

"I believe we do, my lady", whispered Briala, comprehension and fear in her eyes.

"Well then, I'm certain there's much you've to attend to." The Inquisitor dismissed her regally, turning her back to the leaving elf and thinking, _I hope this will be enough. With Gaspard keeping her at her toes, she shouldn't be able to gain enough sway to ever break free of our influence, so she won't disobey. And it's not like my request is too unreasonable, or too restrictive. _

With this little intrigue finished, there wasn't anything keeping them in Halamshiral anymore, so they departed swiftly, as it was only one of Corypheus' many plans they had thwarted, and they were still largely unaware of the rest of them. Morrigan joined them on the way back, as with her former employer's death her presence in the palace was no longer welcome. Elaine came to like the witch immediately, although a sarcastic inner voice questioned her initial honesty, wondering how much of the warmth towards the female originated from the irritation her mere presence caused in Leliana. It was hard to pull one over the spymaster, and the elven lady had a lot of fun poking her with subtle jabs about letting one's feelings cloud one's judgement, as her assumptions regarding Morrigan were entirely mistaken. However, as she spent more time with the former magical advisor, they found out they shared many interests, the old lore and legends fascinating both of them. Elaine also grew fond of Kieran, Morrigan's son, who was a bright child, very obedient, if a bit _unusual_ at times.

The next order of business was the warden issue, which required travelling to Crestwood, and contacting the Hawke's friend, Stroud. But the expedition had to wait some time, as their resources were spread thin after the Winter Palace misadventures, so instead, Elaine followed a tip from Sera, what was supposed to be an easy, Red Jenny request. They walked right into the ambush, designed to catch the leader of the organisation defenceless. The resulting carnage, and Sera's subsequent murder of the orchestrator of this mess, pushed Elaine past the brink of her patience with the thief. She immediately informed the archer that she has outlived her usefulness for the Inquisition, and is no longer welcome among them. Sera bristled, and snappishly replying that she didn't want to remain either, left.

The reaction for Inquisitor's decision to part ways with the Red Jenny varied, depending on the person. Some were glad to see her go, others – just the opposite, Blackwall most notably very expressive with his displeasure. Solas was the only one who refrained from judging her decision, when she went to visit him, trying to find some solace from the commotion she caused.

Their relationship shifted these days, a comfortable, stable partnership where she went to him for comfort, and he offered in return as much as he wished, both of them carefully avoiding crossing each other's boundaries. Their affection was expressed in gentle touches, warm words, light admonitions, and fantastic stories, both happy and sad, when she listened earnestly to his silvery voice, lost in these tales. They never spoke of their bond, or tried to name it, content to let it remain undefined, and open, and Elaine was happy with Solas. There were days however, when she wished things between them were different, when she asked questions about his past which he cleverly avoided answering, and she realized with a pang of pain that there's no actual trust between them, just an illusion. Or, to be more exact, they trusted each other with their present, but neither with their past, nor future. There was a sinking, uneasy feeling accompanying these thoughts, but she refrained from pursuing them any further, or pushing him for more – on some subconscious level_ knowing_ it would break them.

After the preparations were complete, they travelled to Crestwood, only to find the unfortunate mining village overrun with undead, rising from the lake near it. It was obvious soon enough that a Rift was responsible for that onslaught, and Elaine was unable to disregard pitiful stares Cassandra sent her way, and they delayed their search for Stroud a couple of weeks, dealing with this issue instead. After it was closed, and the village safe, they found out the Mayor was partially responsible for the tragedy, as he was the one who had drowned the Blight refugees ten years ago. Elaine sent Leliana's people in search of him, and finally proceeded with original purpose of their arrival to this forsaken place – and they found Stroud, with Hawke on their heels.

The male warden was similar to Blackwall on some level, and yet startlingly different. He informed them of the reason the Wardens went missing – Leliana's suspicions proven correct, as it was related to Corypheus' intervention. Somehow, the evil incarnate managed to manipulate the Warden's Call – an illness all of the Wardens suffered, and one day died from, which could be explained in a few words as a constant pressure to join the Darkspawn's ranks. The conviction of their impeding, inevitable death made them desperate, and they decided to turn to Blood Magic as a final resort of dealing with the Blight once and for all, before all of them perish.

It was an ill begotten idea, but fear made people do crazy things, and Elaine was certain they would need to prevent this insanity before it was too late, giving the magister a new army to replace the one he mostly lost in Haven. Fortunately, Stroud had some idea how to proceed – there was to be a trial ritual performed, in one of Warden camps of old, in Western Approach. He and Hawke went ahead, to scout the area, while the party decided to stop in Skyhold on their way there, and replenish the supplies.

_I hope we stop this madness in time._


	14. The Inquisitor Arc Part Four

Author's Notes:

Thank you **AnneRene** for your correction of my misused word, and both her and **She the fallen** for encouragement. Your involvement is heartening.

Inspired by:

1. Icarus feat. Julie Elven - Ivan Torrent

2. Our Hero - Sharm & BrunuhVille

**The Inquisitor Arc Part Four – Nightmare**

Elaine never thought she could come to hate something more than sea, but there is one thing that turned out to be even worse – a desert. Literal sea of sand, a menace that squeezes in every hole, every seam of clothing, into their boots and undergarments. Her brown hair by midday turned into a dusty, wind tousled mess that took hours in the evening to brush, and still were not returned to their previous state. And then there are tiny sand particles in the air, and she inhaled them with each wheezing breath, soon coughing, as too much of it settled in her throat and lungs. There was barely enough water to drink for the company, so she couldn't even clean her insides from the offending mites. Because of that, she choked every so often, until the blessed break came, and she could take another gulp of drink.

They reached the meeting place in a couple of taxing days, where their scouts have already made contact with Hawke and Stroud. Two humans went ahead, leaving behind urgent messages, imploring them to follow as soon as possible. The time for the ritual drew dangerously close. Elaine read the frantic words with a sardonically raised eyebrow. _Time to save the Wardens from themselves. And it seems we are not a moment too soon for the party. _They have barely had enough time to catch a short rest, before they decided to move out, too close to their goal to let the targets slip, or even worse, succeed in their mad endeavour.

The warden ruin was scarcely guarded, as its residents were clearly otherwise occupied, most likely with their ritual craziness. Hawke and Stroud rose from their hiding spot at their sight, relief on their faces. Together, they stormed the place, taking the defenders by surprise, easily reaching the instigator of the ritual. But they were too late. The bodies of the sacrificed Wardens were randomly piled up next to the walls in a disrespectful manner, and she thought with bitterness _it's no wonder we could take this place so easily, when the majority of them was dead before our arrival_. What awaited them was an open rift, great many demons, and a small detachment of mages, making their last kills and summons. Elaine voiced her shock with a brief gasp, when she saw an elegant Tevinter mage, clearly _not_ a Warden, directing the slaughter, and the Order mages meekly adhering to his orders. Of course, he turned out to be a Corypheus' pawn. The elven female had gotten used to the people believing that following Blighted madman was somehow to their benefit, even if they were _obviously _being used, a throwaway tools only. Then again, when one had ambitions to be a god-king, ruling over entire world, the madmen were a suitable company.

The male tried to kill her, using some convoluted magic that was supposed to bind her through her mark. For some unspecified reason, the magisters' plan failed, as the Anchor refused to act according to their expectations, and she freed herself easily. Seeing his scheme collapse in front of him, he ordered the people under his control to attack them, and fled with a tail between his legs. They tried to pursue, only to found themselves swarmed in demons, neck deep, so many of them they were barely able to move. These were decidedly unfavourable conditions to fight for mages, and Elaine was beyond grateful Hawke and Stroud were there to assist them, more so when the males covered their retreat to the bridge. From the distance, she and Solas rained fire on the masses of enemies, while the rest of the company kept them at bay. The battle was gruesome, and the wounds she received during the initial attack of the creatures soon began to upset her, but there was no time to tend to them, spells cast one after another, until her mana was on the brink of depletion, lips chafed, throat dry and hurting from the hurriedly shouted incantations, her thoughts too frenzied to allow forming the magic soundlessly. She thought the demons would never end, and was singularly surprised when the final enemy perished under Stroud's sword, and no more came.

Elaine made a few shaking steps in an attempt to surmise the situation, but soon her knees buckled, and only Solas' timely grip prevented her from falling. She smiled with gratitude, as he carefully lowered her to the ground, wordlessly dressing her wounds, a grim determination on his face. She allowed that, peering over his shoulder just in time to see Cassandra attending to a nasty gash the Bull got on his shoulder, Stroud taking rushed gulps of water, and Hawke picking up one of the shields lying around to replace his broken one. Glumness overcame her, as she glanced at the corpses of the Wardens. _We failed. _

Stroud looked more severe than usual, when he told them about the Warden Fortress that was most likely the place where the final ritual would take place – Adamant Fortress, in direction of which the Tevinter's Venatori escaped. They agreed for the two warriors to scout ahead, along with a detachment of Leliana's people, and inform them of the findings, while the rest of them decided to make a return to Skyhold, their mental and physical fortitude both drained.

It has been a long time since Elaine was that heavily injured, over a year since the Haven's Fall having passed, and the situation was not a welcome one, the dizziness and nausea mincing her thoughts into incomprehensible mess. Solas helped her to her feet, before sneaking an arm around her waist, supporting her unsteady limping back to camp. She felt the incredulous stare of Cassandra, surprised by the change in their relationship, and a thoughtful one of Iron Bull, the spy clearly long aware of it. But she was far too lost in her hurt to bring herself to care, as she soundlessly followed the elf's gentle push, aiding her steps back to camp, biting her lips when the lump on the road caused her to stumble, aggravating the wounds. A thin trickle of blood, mixed with sweat, was running down from the corner of her mouth, slit by her own teeth, when she forcefully held in cries of distress, unwilling to let others fawn over her more than they already were. _The dead are the only ones free from suffering. _Still a small whimper escaped her, when she was helped onto a wagon, to be hauled to the Skyhold along with the empty crates of their supplies. Solas ensured she was settled in comfortably, and soothingly caressed her cheek, delicately wiping away the blood. She leaned in to his gentle touch, closing her eyes in exhaustion, silently grateful for his assistance, even though he was typically adverse to such open shows of affection. After a few quiet moments, disrupted only by her shallow, wheezing breaths, he moved away, and she felt the wagon vibrate as he jumped down. Then there was a muffled click at the horses, the wagon moved, and a silent scream arose within her at the sudden jerk of her body when the wheels bumped on some hole, and then a blessed darkness swallowing her senses as she lost consciousness from the pain.

Her recuperation took a few long weeks during which they heard back from their scouts, informing of the unusual activity in the thus far mostly abandoned Adamant Fortress. Stroud reported sightings of many Wardens gathering there, arriving in groups from wherever they were stationed before. Warden Commander Clarel awaited them all, saying her greetings at the front gate, and there were sightings of the escaped Ventori, skulking in the shadows. The Inquisition started mustering their forces, readying for the imminent assault on the keep, as it was almost certain any negotiations would be futile, the example of the situation in the Western Approach fresh in their minds.

During the preparations, Elaine started making first tentative trips around the keep, often visiting gardens for their quietness, and Morrigan who liked dwelling in their vicinity. If not for the witch, she might have chosen courtyard as her place of respite, for mother Giselle also preferred the flowery paths over other places in Skyhold. The elven female tried to steer clear of the preaching matron, who often tried converting her to her own beliefs, without any consideration towards the ancient traditions of Elaine's race. But the elderly lady couldn't stand the former advisor of Celene's, so avoidance was easily accomplished simply by talking to Morrigan, and that was her main purpose in the first place.

When she felt strong enough to start taking longer walks, she visited Solas, longing to see him even if she was a bit sad he didn't think to see her on his own. She pushed the doors open, and saw him scowling after taking a sip of tea, with apparent distaste.

"Something wrong with your tea?" Elaine asked, coming to stand in front of the table, regarding him with raised eyebrow. He looked up quickly, as if surprised to see her. _Maybe you were too lost in thought to hear me? An unusual occurrence. _

Solas answered dryly, "it _is_ tea. I detest the stuff." He sighed, putting away the mug, and entwined his hands on his knees. "But this morning, I need to shake the dreams from my mind." He glanced at her appraisingly, in obvious judgement of her condition, and she titled her head, daring him to criticize her. He opened his mouth to speak, and immediately closed it, changing his mind mid-thought, finally saying, "I may also need a favour."

She smiled in acknowledgement of his efforts to preserve her dignity, before stating resolutely, "you just have to ask."

He started his explanations in a low tone, obviously barely keeping anger at bay. "One of my oldest friends have been captured by mages, forced into slavery. I heard the cry for help as I slept."

_Heard? _"When your friend as captured, how did he… she…" She stuttered, uncertain how to voice her confusion.

"It."

"It?" Her confusion grew.

"My friend is a spirit of wisdom." He stated in answer. "Unlike the spirits clamouring to enter our world through the rifts, it dwells quite happily in the Fade. It was summoned against its will, and wants my help to gain its freedom and return to the Fade. "

She pursed her lips, and prodded, "I thought spirits wanted to find their way into this world."

"Some do, certainly." He agreed easily, with a hint of ridicule. "Just as many Orleasian peasants wish they could journey to the exotic Rivain. But not everyone wants to go to Rivain." _Thank you so much for disparaging my intelligence in such subtle manner._ "My friend is an explorer, seeking lost wisdom and reflecting it. It would happily discuss philosophy with you, but had no wish to come here physically."

She was growing impatient and annoyed with the elf, his poor mood making him overly spiteful and malicious. "Do you have any idea what the mages want with your friend?"

"No. It knows a great deal of lore and history, but a mage could learn that simply by speaking to it in the Fade. It is possible that they seek information it does not wish to give, and intend to torture it." Solas grew more and more agitated with each word, so she kept her doubts to herself. _Or just as easily, they do not possess your comprehensive knowledge of the Fade, and thought summoning it the only way for communication. Opening the hole in reality comes at a great cost, and they might have wanted to guarantee results by binding the creature._ She shook the thoughts of, focusing on the important issue._ Still, you obviously need to help it, and so we shall. Even if you are being singularly insufferable about it._

"All right. Let's go get your friend."

"Thank you." The surprise sounding in his voice might have offended her, had he not been so clearly shaken. Instead she touched his hand softly in reassurance, as he added, "I can sense its location, I will mark it on our map."

The preparations for the assault on the Warden stronghold were still underway, so this short errand could be squeezed in, as long as they didn't dally on the way. Her condition was still far from perfect, but they weren't expecting particularly strong foes, as the Corypheus' attention was obviously focused elsewhere, and the bandits and vigilantes of Exalted Plains posed no threat to them. Still, she held back, allowing the others to take the brunt and heat of the battles, knowing that overtaxing herself right now was simply stupid. They found the spirit following Solas' lead without trouble, only the situation turned out to be more dire than they feared - the Wisdom creature was no more, a raging demon in its place. The male elf cursed and spluttered in fury, as they questioned the mages responsible for the ordeal, and found them guilty of thus twisting the spirit. Forced to act against its peaceful nature, to kill in defence of mindless humans, it tried to free itself against better judgement, and ended up stuck in the demon form to protect itself. They broke the chains binding it, and the spirit calmed. But it was hurt beyond help, and asked Solas for the final mercy.

He granted the request, with a terrible look on his face. Elaine put a hand on his shoulder, whispering meaningless words of consolation, "You did everything you could."

He pushed her away, and made a move towards the mages who imprisoned the now gone creature, with a terrifying decisiveness, and steel in his eyes. His single minded purpose was clear, but she didn't feel any need to rise in their defence, and simply looked away from the merciless revenge of the elf. Cassandra appeared to want to intervene, so Elaine sent a warning glance her way, and the warrior after a moment of inner conflict nodded, stilling. A few stifled cries, and the deed was done.

Solas rejoined them, a splatters of blood on his robes, aloof and distanced. "I need some time alone." His voice was so cold, any protest of hers was stifled in her throat, and she simply inclined her head, making a hand motion to the rest of the company, singling the return to Skyhold.

A few days passed, and they were almost ready to leave for Adamant, before he returned. She awaited him nervously, afraid to voice her concerns even before herself, so the moment he crossed the gates, she was there, a question in her eyes.

"Inquisitor." _Not my name. Never my name. Always keeping distance when it gets too close to heart. Oh my Dreamer, what are we?_

But still she asked, had to ask, mindful of his suffering. "How are you, Solas?"

"it hurts." He closed his eyes briefly, hiding the pain reflected inside them. "It always does, but I will survive."

"Thank you for coming back."

"You were a true friend. You did everything you could to help." _And conveniently spared you uncomfortable questions? _But she chided herself for foolishness, now was hardly the time to reveal her own wounds. _I ought to show more understanding. _"I could hardly abandon you now." He looked away, as if unable to meet her eyes, and she couldn't help wondering, _how close you came to that? _

"The next time you have to mourn, you don't need to be alone." She couldn't refrain from pointing out, a touch of her bitterness exposed in the words.

It brought his sharp glance, as Solas caught on the underlying reproach in her speech, and he murmured in explanation, "it's been so long since I could trust someone."

"I know." She kept looking at him steadily, undeterred, unconsoled. _It's not enough._

"I'll work on it. And thank you." _No you won't_, she realized, a sudden pain piercing her heart. _Because that is not how we are. We have never been like that, and… _she took a staggering breath, chasing away the tears that threatened to spill, …_nothing's changed._ Elaine watched the elf walk away, with a crushing need to chase after him, stop him and finally _talk_ about all the forbidden topics he always waved away, evaded. But at the same time, she felt a terrifying fear, what would happen if she had really done that. _I'm going to lose it._

Fortunately she was soon far too busy to pay any mind to her private problems, as the assault prepared, most of the troops already underway. Cullen was in his element, directing, ordering, planning the army's moves. They left last, accompanying the war machines, requiring the most protection from the best warriors, the crucial part of their planning and the easiest to obstruct. It seemed however that enemy remained largely in the dark, and did not lay any ambushes on their way.

The siege itself was blessedly short, and terrifyingly brutal. The walls were captured with minimal losses, the Wardens themselves unwilling to fight, and Elaine allowed to accept the surrender of all those inclined to do so. The gate fell behind their backs, but they rushed to the main courtyard, where the voices rang with conviction, explaining the necessity of the ritual's sacrifice.

Warden Commander Clarell was a sad sight, so full of righteousness and pride, turning all of the Order's glorious ideals to dust. Certain of her purpose, of her infallibility… _Fanatics are strange birds. _Thought Elaine, without much hostility. _One can so easily turn their belief against them, use it. No wonder evil masterminds always flock to the armies of most faithful, or most desperate. _That awoke a dreary realization within her. _I could never be that – neither fanatic, nor faithful. I'm far too pragmatic, and egoistic, to sacrifice myself for some unfathomable greater good. I can only strive to achieve tangible goals, loftiness does not tempt me. _But this mental debate had to be put aside, as they were to stop a ritual – and it didn't look like the Wardens were about to regain their sense any time soon, in spite of the siege crushing their walls. The entrance of the group was remarkably ostentatious, her inner self cringed at the _subtlety_ of the affair, _my, why don't we just bring the roof down while we are at it, they might not have realized we are here. Then again, we did just break apart the gates, and they remained unresponsive, so maybe a more decisive means to get their attention were not without reason._

They tried reasoning with the woman, and surprisingly, got through sufficiently for her to question the Venatori, and agree to test their claims of the trickery. The idea that after the ritual she would be bound to another's will was disturbing enough to shake the elderly woman. The Tevinter turned red from fury, bellowing about traitors, before proving his words correct, though about himself, and summoning a dreadfully familiar foe to his aid.

The dragon's roar shook the fundaments, and the winged shadow descendent upon them in its terrifying glory, and red, disturbingly electrical fire rained on the courtyard. They took cover, barely in time, forewarned by the villains words, avoiding the death by the skin of their teeth. Clarel regained her senses, and ordered her forces to assist the Inquisitor, and went in pursuit of the fleeing Venatori. There were many demons on the courtyard, a Rift opened in the center, and they had a quick skirmish there, before being able to proceed after the woman and her escapee.

They chased the Tevinter upwards, the fortress vastness an annoying obstacle, and finally reached Clarel and the other mage on the building's peak, where she had him at her staff's edge, ready to deliver final blow. Even in the face of death, the male was unrepentant, proud of his accomplishments in his master's name, and disdainful of Warden's naivety. He laughed at her outrage, reminding her with delight that no one forced her hand, and she was the one to make final decisions, sacrificing so many of her subordinates for the promised power. The female screamed in anger, so lost in her anger she failed to see a movement at her back – and then it was too late, and a dragon bit her, tearing her limbs apart. But the woman remained unbowed, and in her final, struggling breaths she unleashed the remainder of her mana in a devastating spell, gravely hurting the beast.

The dragon flayed in pain, and the building fell apart under their feet. They plunged into abyss, and as the ground came frighteningly close, Elaine extended her marked hand in the last-ditch effort, and a green light engulfed them.

They found themselves alive, although the way back seemed convoluted, and treacherous, like everything in Fade. The green nightmarish reality surrounding them was highly distracting, the unsettling spikes of strange rock sticking out from the unlikeliest places. Solas was enchanted, but the rest of them clearly disturbed, feeling like a fish out of water, uncertain of their net moves. Elaine pointed out that waiting about was meaningless, and so they proceeded to follow one of the many paths, hoping that by some stroke of luck they will find the way to some other Rift, an opening to return to their world.

The spirit helped them along the way, one that took Divine Justinia's form, to Cassandra's confusion. Elaine's lost memories from the day of Conclaves destruction returned, as the spirit explained these were taken away by the lord of this particular Fade realm – Nightmare, feeding on the mortal's fear. And along with the memories came a distressing, poignant knowledge behind the Temple's explosion, the Wardens involved in all this. In a way they were responsible for the entirety of the catastrophe, not only unable to keep Corypheus caged away in his ancient prison, but also allowing him to dictate their actions. They must have used their Order's ancient authority to arrange the Divine's sacrificial death, in which some of them personally assisted, to let the magister this close to succeeding.

This information created a rift within the group, most of them disbelieving, even as the scenes straight out of Elaine's mind played in front of them. Disbelieving, but then outraged, and the female elf was quite certain had the circumstances been different, Stroud might have been lynched as he stood. But they were in the Fade, and had to make their escape, with the realm's master at their heels. The demon fed them lies mingled with truths, trying to prevent them from reaching the other Rift in his kingdom, and a way out. The group remained unrelenting, too proud to fall for his traps, and finally they faced one of his many faces, and emerged victorious, through the zounds of spiders and their own worst memories being their deterrent.

And then the last stretch, a mad dash across the thin path leading to freedom…

…and finally light. _We made it. Although… not all of us._


	15. The Inquisitor Arc Part Five

Author's Notes:

Inspired by:

1. Lost Generation - Audiomachine

2. Angels - Within Temptation

**The Inquisitor Arc Part Five – The Temple of Mythal**

They escaped the Fade and greatly weakened Nightmare, perhaps destroying one of his aspects forever. However, Elaine didn't think this state would remain for long, a new one would soon take its place – for the world was full of nightmares, fears hidden in the deepest corners of our soul. The victory had a bitter taste, as in the final moments of escape a decision had to be made, a sacrifice in the name of greater good, _and our survival_. Stroud took it upon himself to divert the attention of enemies, just a for a short while. But just enough for them to pass through the Rift, and Elaine sent a regretful glance behind, masses of enemies overwhelming the old warrior, tearing him apart. Solas was the one to pull her to the other side, otherwise she might have been too late. And then she closed the passage, a small blast of green sparks signalling the end of that ordeal.

Afterwards, another difficult judgement had to be passed, over the remained of the Wardens. They surrendered once all demons were defeated, and the Inquisitor was to make a decision regarding their fate. She clenched her fists, glancing at Solas in askance, unsure how to deal with them, and his hard look told her clearly his opinion on the matter. Still she was unconvinced, unwilling to put the members of the Order to sword – they forgave the Templars, and their crime was similar in nature. But allowing them into Inquisition's ranks was out of question, the risk of corruption still a looming threat, with no way to guarantee the loyalty of the Wardens. The spies were the last thing the organization needed.

In the end, she banished them from Orlais and the theatre of operations, effectively removing the threat while preserving their lives. Some members grumbled about disrespect, "Blackwall the matter is not up to discussion"_,_ others about loss of military might, "Cullen we have no use for soldiers we cannot trust"_. _But most were satisfied with the solution, justice for Divine's death delivered, and the potential hazard dispersed.

The Skyhold awaited them with a great feast for the triumphant troops, a celebration and a wake for the fallen at the same time. Elaine excused herself early, and held a private ceremony in solitude, according to ancient elven traditions, remembering both the brave soldiers, and her friends in Haven, a collateral damage of grand ambitions. Once more she refrained from including Solas in the ritual, this time a bit spitefully, the memory of being excluded from his own grief still fresh and stinging.

For the next days, Elaine avoided the elf, feeling a bit guilty about her childishness. But she cared for him too deeply, and ended up back in his quarters before the end of the week. Again he asked no questions, and she offered no excuses for her behaviour, although she dearly wished he did ask. She recognized this as one of the core problems in their relationship, this respect for boundaries an impassable gulf between them. But she had no way of bridging the gap, and anytime she made such attempt, the male refused to meet her halfway, dissuading her from the notion. _Pointless._ So once more they talked about meaningless nothings, trivialities to keep each other's company without much emotional engagement. She was close to tears while leaving his rooms, distressed without having any clear reason for it, simply unhappy. 

Then the scouts reported a sightings of Venatori, snooping around the Arbor Wilds and ancient ruins scattered in the region. Their purpose was unclear, although Morrigan speculated they were seeking some elven artifacts of old, possibly Eluvian. Elaine expressed interest in the Eluvian, and the witch led her to her own quarters, where a giant mirror stood. She explained to the elf the purpose behind them, their ability to travel great distances between mirrors, and the ability to enter Fade as well. To take the seat of god, Corypheus needed a way to physically enter the other realm, and with the Anchor denied, the mirror allowed new opportunity. Elaine agreed with the witch, expressing to her other advisors the need to prevent the magister from achieving its goal, whatever that was.

Their army was battered from the assault on the Warden's Keep, so they required additional support - Briala was messaged. The former ambassador responded promptly, promising the requested assistance of Orleasian forces, led by emperor Gaspard himself. The magister's army was slowed by the heroic sacrifices of their scouts, setting traps, slowing the force down. Their own forces marched out as soon as all the supplies were gathered, the pressure of time once more dire.

These days of waiting were hard to pass, as their spies brought back more and more worrying news, Leliana racking her brains out trying to come up with schemes to delay Corypheus. Josephine, feeling useless once the allies responded positively to their call for help, paced around in her quarters, unable to proceed with her routine tasks. Cullen was the only one almost _happy, _the coordination of two vast armies clearly a fulfilment of his dreams, though he grumbled about being left behind. But the Inquisitor was unrelenting, for not only they needed to show Gaspard a bit of respect, by making him the sole commander, but also Skyhold required him. With its defences stripped to bare minimum, the least they could do was ensure the best person led it in the unlikely event of siege.

Elaine escaped the commotion, talking with Morrigan, carefully analysing the Eluvian, both because of actual curiosity, and to steer her thoughts away from the upcoming confrontation. They spoke of other treasures that could remain within the temple, carefully avoiding the unpleasant topic of the unavoidable battle.

And then they travelled to Arbor Wilds, the great forest flourishing across the entire region, old trees so high and leafy, almost no light shined through their crowns. That created a pleasant shadow, cooling the area below, in spite of blazing summer. But the elusive tranquillity of the place was disrupted with explosions and screams of the on-going fighting. Elaine and her group passed through the camps, proceeding down the path to the temple, as the scouts informed them Corypheus had been sighed, and soon to reach the destination. They didn't engage in any of the skirmishes their troops had with the opposing forces, crossing the forest with haste, only stopping when they encountered an unusual opposition. The elves of old, somehow having survived the passage of time, met the intruders with weapons in their hands. The Inquisitor tried reasoning with them, but they responded with the sharp edges of their blades, and so the company broke through with brute force. The time pressed, and Elaine left countless soldiers to fend against terrifying, disfigured enemies, praying that their training will prove sufficient, as she could offer them no support.

They made it just barely, to witness the desperate courage of the temple guardians, as they bravely tried to prevent the creature from entering their sacred sanctuary. The tragedy was taking place in the large courtyard, from which the bridge crossed to the inner shrine. The defenders made their stand in this choke, hoping to overcome their number disadvantage by superior positioning, and magical defences set up ages ago. However, these very devices became their demise, when they exploded from overload, as Corypheus attempted to pass through it. But the creature was also destroyed in the blast, and Elaine felt a flash of satisfaction, seeing him fall. Shockingly, his forces pushed on, through the gate, inside to the building complex, apparently unconcerned with the fate f their leader. The group followed, examining the body of the magister in passing, only to realize with horror one of the Wardens was not in fact dead, as they originally surmised, but in the middle of being possessed. As the disfigured limbs of the monstrosity shot out of the human's body in a flood of black blood, they run. They closed the gate behind them, and the magics of the Temple sealed it shut. His fury roared outside, denied the access, at least – for the moment. But they couldn't hope for it to stop him for long, so Elaine led the group forward, hoping to prevent the rest of his forces from achieving the goal – Well of Sorrows.

Corypheus mysterious survivability was now explained, if not how it could be dealt with. Solas speculated on spot that it might have been able to possess all blighted creatures, granting it near immortality. Morrigan pointed out that the Wardens could kill archdemons, dragon leaders of the Blight, but the creature had been imprisoned. This implied their inability to deal with it once and for all, and was not a very promising for the future.

They also discussed the Well of Sorrows, Morrigan admitting her lack of knowledge what it might be. Cassandra criticized the witch for misleading them, but the accused just laughed, and pointed out she was only _speculating. _The accurate predictions of the madman's actions were beyond anyone. And in the end, she wasn't mistaken as to the importance of the place to him.

They fulfilled ancient rituals allowing them free passage forward. Cassandra urged to follow in Corypheus' forces steps, going through the wreckage of walls straight through, but Elaine was unwilling to desecrate the sanctum any more than what was absolutely necessary. She felt uncomfortable enough already, rushing through the pilgrim's path without appropriate meditations and prayers. Mythal was one of the central gods of elven pantheon, second only to Elgar'nan, and even with the deities having not responded since many centuries ago, she didn't deserve any less respect.

And then they entered the inner shrine, encountering the guardians. For the first time, they were willing to talk, and Elaine was glad she could avoid any further fighting with people who could just as well be her predecessors. Abelas, the apparent leader, was an imposing male with a formidable force of archers, and hardly welcoming. It took some convincing to establish a shaky alliance, and they had to promise not to touch the Well, but it was well worth it, Elaine was certain. Still the male decided he would rather destroy the saint sanctum, than let it be polluted by unworthy, and went there directly, using some of the Temple's shortcuts – an Morrigan chased after him in panic, loath to let the destruction happen.

Elaine ignored the witch's disappearance, as there was nothing she could do about it. They proceeded through the hidden passages, avoiding the enemies that fought with the guardians, going as directly as possible to the source of all trouble. They encountered Corypheus' right hand there, Calpernia, a former slave that Dorian told them about. She was one of the Venatori leaders, a Tevinter who aspired for the return of empire's former glory. A startling difference between her and the mage who was sent to take over the Wardens, both in mindset and position. The magister might have been mad, but he certainly wasn't stupid, aware that those corrupted by power could just as easily turn against him. Calpernia on the other hand was not only grateful for her freedom, but also inspired by the noble goal, beyond reproach. There was nothing they could say that would sway her from his side, beyond a direct proof of creature's duplicity, and they didn't have any. So they fought, bitterly and to death, leaving behind them many corpses of corrupted monstrosities, and finally, the mage herself was felled as well. She fought bravely, strong and proud, and Elaine was a bit saddened there was no way for them to have reached her, as she was a worth foe, and a worthy person. Her life as a slave couldn't have been easy, the Inquisitor had a lot of compassion for them, remembering many of them were of her kind. And the City Elves themselves did not have much better lives than slaves, as she was often reminded, unable to reject the whims of aristocracy.

And then, in a slower pace as they suffered some light wounds, and were also quite tired, they went to the Well, where they found Abelas, with Morrigan, holding him at bay. She tried to stop the elf from destroying the ancient powers that dwelled within the waters of the sacred pond. With their arrival, the attention of these two turned to the Inquisitor, both stating their arguments, and clearly awaiting her judgement. _Why do people always ask for my directions in matters I have no clue about? _But she remembered her promise, and told Morrigan to back down, allowing the male elf to do whatever he would.

Surprisingly, that turned out to be the right thing to say. The guardian told them what the Well truly was – a centuries of memories of Mythal's servants, as those bound to the Temple were not allowed to join Falon'Din, and died here. He also warned them of the price that was to be paid, a servitude to Mythal, for all eternity. The witch ridiculed the loyalty to the dead goddess, but he responded sharply that they remained bound, still. Elaine realized with sudden joy what it indicated - that Mythal was not truly gone. _Maybe they will return, someday, all of them. _He left then, taking the remainder of guardians along with him, in search of a place away from the land spoiled by humans. Solas said something in parting words, before explaining to them he wished Abelas to change his name. It meant sorrow. Elaine thought it morbidly suitable, to accompany someone condemned to a life such as his.

Morrigan almost begged her for the Well, the usually proud woman overtaken by greed. Now that the action wouldn't result in the battle with the guardians, Elaine was quite happy to grant her this wish. Not only she didn't want neither the power, nor to pay the price herself, she was also quite certain she wouldn't be able to fully comprehend the gift. And there was a high likelihood it could prove useful when dealing with Corypheus.

The witch went into the pond, and the water swirled, turning into a vacuum of power, before absorbing into the female. But there was no time to marvel at the miracle, as Corypheus approached, commanding a dragon and what remained of his honour guard. They run through the Eluvian, which stood near the now empty pond, and Morrigan couldn't resist, "at least I wasn't wrong about Eluvian actually being here." Elaine might have laughed at the wounded pride of the woman, had they not been running for their lives.

Morrigan found the path in the ghostly world out of existence between Eluvians almost immediately, and they returned directly to Skyhold, through the mirror in her quarters. The shocked faces of her advisors made Elaine smile, even Leliana seemed put out by their unexpected appearance. She regained herself soon, and immediately called for the council meeting. They spent a long time recounting the events as accurately as possible, and discussed the new-found knowledge of Corypheus' powers. Morrigan perked up at this change of topic, and explained that the dragon it controlled wasn't in fact an Archdemon. She continued, saying that he attempted to imitate the Old Gods of Tevinter, by corrupting one of the high dragons with his own flesh, thus creating a weakness they could exploit. He used far too much of his powers, binding them to the beast, and once it was dead, these would be lost and irrecoverable. Josephine was befuddled, and pointed out that she wouldn't call a fire-throwing, flying dragon a _weakness_. Morrigan simply smiled, and said she could assist with that problem, and once they had slain the dragon, Corypheus could be subdued. Possibly imprisoned again, as they still didn't have any idea how to destroy him permanently.

After the council, Elaine went to visit the witch in her chambers, hoping to find out more about the _help_ she was offering. She found her is a state of great distress, searching frantically for her son, before realizing the child could have used the Eluvian, thanks to his special powers. The Inquisitor went with her through the mirror to the Fade, the path left open in the wake of the boy's passage. She shuddered at the thought that some demons could have used it as an opportunity to come through, and prayed silently it wasn't so. They searched the realm, staying in the vicinity of the Eluvian, trying not to get lost in the terrifying wasteland. Finally, Morrigan encountered Kieran, with a woman nearby, which immediately put her on guard. They talked then, of Kieran's true nature and how the witch avoided being found by the person who turned out to be her mother. Elaine had troubles following the conversation, and decided to revisit the issue at some later date with the witch, staying on the sidelines. She only expressed her shock when the woman mentioned being in fact a host for Mythal, just as disbelieving as Morrigan. _What does that mean? I mean, they taught us Fen'Harrel betrayed Mythal, but Abelas said it was not so, though he didn't explain anything else. So the goddess is bound in this form? What does that mean about others? _She blanked out, her mind swirling with wild speculations, all the while the witch and her mother finished their business. They left the Fade shortly afterwards, Elaine's own queries left unanswered by the mysterious Flemeth.

Because of the aberrancy of the events that transpired during and after the Temple, she hadn't much time at first, describing them to her advisors, and eluding them when it came to Morrigan's affairs, trying to protect her from future interferences of the Inquisition. She knew Leliana wouldn't hesitate and use her son against the witch, should she ever require her aid, without any remorse. The crucial point was hiding the boy's importance to the woman, as well as her unique heritage, make her less interesting than she was, minimizing the Well's significance. As long as she was perceived useless, the organization would leave her be, and Elaine ultimately wouldn't face any problems regarding the issue. The female elf weighted her words carefully, delivering her reports, and spent a few days involved solely in that. In between she consulted these things with Morrigan, ensuring she wasn't overdoing it, lying about issues Leliana was already aware of.

Morrigan was grateful for her assistance in searching for Kieran, as pointless as it turned out to be. The events brought them cl"oser to one another, the witch started sharing some of her childhood stories, and Elaine responded in kind, describing the life among the Dalish. She didn't hide from the other female her problems, though she might have downplayed their severity. They became friends, the witch closer to Elaine than any of her other companions, the Dreamer included. But it was no wonder in hindsight, as their uncertain place in the world was what connected them, deeper than any artificial circumstances that brought the others to her side.

There was also an issue of choosing the next Divine. While it was obvious that the Inquisition, with its many impressive deeds, would have an influence over who became one, Elaine did not quite expect the actual result of the congregation's deliberations. It turned out two of the most sought out candidates were Cassandra and Leliana, both equally bewildered by the staunch recommendations they received, and the support of the clergy. For now, the Inquisitor waved the petitioners away, hiding behind the undisputable indispensability of both women to the organization's effort, but the solution was short lived. Someday, should the Corypheus be defeated, a decision had to be made. And the leadership of the Chantry was not a small issue to handle, nor a light burden to bear.

Thus quite some time passed before she could visit her most sought out person, since the elf, as usual, did not seek her out himself, even though it has been long since they talked. They had seen one another, in passing, as she rushed to fulfil her tasks, and he wandered in the library, finding some tomes to occupy his time, and do some other secret activities he never explained to her. As she came to him, Solas turned to face her, speaking as if they had seen one another just a moment ago, and not, in fact, over a week.

"The Temple of Mythal was extraordinary. In all my journeys, I never dreamed of finding anything like it." She frowned, annoyed by his lack of acknowledgement of the uneasiness between them. "What will you do with the power of the Well once the Corypheus is dead?" _You might want to remember it was in fact Morrigan who received the power, not me, and you agreed heartily, as I recall._ But she had to admit he was asking about more than just the Well, and if she wished, she could probably force the witch to act in accordance with her desires. The Inquisition's dominance over this part of Thedas was undisputable, and their influence stretched across entire continent, so one person could hardly resist their will.

She pondered on his question thoughtfully, before answering honestly, "the war proved that we can't go back to the way things were. I'll try to help this world move forward." _Like I did with matters in Orlais. There's also an upcoming Divine election, which I still don't know what to do about._

Her answer must have run counter to his expectations, as he glowered and asked sharply, "what if it isn't? What if you wake up to find that the future you shaped is worse than what was?"

She made a tentative step in his direction, shyly touching his hand and trying to calm him down. But he pulled away firmly, staring her down, so she sighed and replied, "I'll take a breath, see where things went wrong, and then try again."

"Just like that?" the disbelief rang in his words, as he regarded her with an raised eyebrow.

She shrugged helplessly, "if we don't keep trying, we'll never get it right."

Suddenly he smiled, bright as sun, his previous agitation having passed in a blink of an eye. "You're right. Thank you."

"For what?" _What were we even talking about? Because Andruil strike me down, it sure weren't my future plans._

"You have not been what I expected, Inquisitor. You have… impressed me." There was a light in his eyes, even though he stopped smiling and became more serious. "You have offered hope, that if one keeps trying, even if the consequences are grave… that someday, things will be better." _And you avoid my question brilliantly, paying me faux complements, diverting my attention from the issue. Again. And I can't even chew you out for that. Well played, my Dreamer. _She felt weary, suddenly, of their dance, and made a move to leave – she couldn't take this anymore.

Solas easily discerned her drop in mood, gloominess showed in slouched shoulders and shrunk posture. He changed the topic, stopping her departure just short of the doors, "Forgive my melancholy. Corypheus has cost us much. The Temple of the Mythal did not deserve such a fate. The orb he carries, and its stolen power… That at least, we may still recover."

She could understand his pain, as she felt the same in regards to the ancient heritage, and her sullenness lessened. "Whatever comes, I'll have you by my side." Her voice shook with unspeakable emotion, holding a touch of uncertainty, as she glanced at him, hoping for, praying for confirmation of these brave words. This was the first time she ever referred to their relationship as having any sort of future.

Instead of answering one way or another, he smiled enigmatically, prompting her, "come with me, vhenan."

The cove Solas led her to was a few hours journey down the mountains, along a hidden trail, hard to distinguish and find. It was already dark when they entered it, an enchantingly captivating enclave in the midst of mountains. There were a realistic dear carvings overlooking the area, and a small pond surrounded by green, plentiful flora, reflecting the many flowers and their lithe figures in its crystal water. The trees cast long shadows in the moonlight, though the evening mist hindered their vision slightly, adding to the mysticism of the place, somehow strangely suiting. They strolled unhurriedly, their hands entwined, and Elaine rejoiced in the tranquillity of the setting and the male's closeness, her forlorn spirits raised.

The male broke the silence. "The veil is thin here. Can you feel it on your skin, tingling?" And she really could, now that she focused on it, instead of obliviously enjoying the situation.

He stopped, and she turned to face him, as he rubbed the back of her hand lovingly. "I was trying to determine some way to show you what you mean to me."

A faint alarm sounded in her ears, and fear. That was a deviation from their usually ambiguous moves, and she wasn't certain she wanted to know what brought it about. "That's not necessary, Solas. You're my…" she paused uncertainly, finishing in her mind, _beloved. But I cannot say that… You will pull away. You always do._

Solas smiled sadly. "That is the question, is it not?" _Only because you make it so, _she thought petulantly, sending him a meaningful glare, and snatching her hands away from him, crossing them in a show of irritation.

He sighed then, chiding her with a long-suffering, patient look, and continued, "For now, the best gift I can offer you, is the truth." He glanced away from her, searching for words. "You are unique. In all Thedas, I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention away from the Fade. You have become important to me, more important than I could imagine."

She was moved by his words, her irritation draining away, and whispered in response, "as you are to me."

"Then what I must tell you… the truth… Your face. The vallaslin." Solas was for some reason unhappy while speaking. She touched the tattoo encircling her right eye, in a flash remembering the day she got it on her fifteenth Spring. "In my journeys through the Fade, I have seen things. I have discovered what those marks mean."

"They honour the elven gods." She said carefully, searching his face, trying to discern the reason behind his distress.

"No. They are the slave markings, or at least they were in the time of ancient Arlathan." The decisiveness of his voice left no room for doubts.

Still, it was hard to comprehend, and she spoke slowly, in reminiscence "my Clan's Keeper said they honoured the ancient gods. These are their symbols."

"Yes. That's right." He confirmed, before breaking the noble illusion apart, "a noble would mark his slaves to honour the gods he worshipped. After the Arlathan fell, the Dalish forgot."

"So this is… what?" she whirled away from him, clenching her fists in silent outrage. "Just one more thing the Dalish got wrong?" _How could we have forgotten this small, insignificant detail? _Her thoughts turned venomous, and she bit her lip viciously. _A slave markings._

"I'm sorry." He sounded genuinely apologetic for her distress, though he was only a messenger, conveying the grim reality.

"We try to preserve our culture, and this is what we keep? Relics of the time when we were no better than Tevinter?"

He caught her arms, stabilizing her shaking body, and calming her. "Don't say that. For all they did wrong, the Dalish did one thing right." Solas smiled, lowering his tone, and saying, "They made you." He paused for a moment, allowing her to think on his words, before adding, "I didn't tell this to hurt you. If you like, I know a spell… I can remove the vallaslin."

"If what you 're saying is true…" She glanced once more in askance, foolishly hoping that he might take back his words.

But his words, while not unexpected, run counter to her hopes. "It is."

"Then… my people vowed to never submit to slavery." She was taught this, many years ago, when Mulasli explained the reasons behind Dalish exodus from their ancient, almost forgotten now, homeland, Arlathan.

"I'm so sorry for causing you pain. It was selfish of me. I look at you, and I see what you truly are… And you deserve better than what those cruel marks represent." _You probably know me better than I do myself. And you were right, I do not regret knowing the truth, and being given an opportunity to deal with it as I see fit._

"Then cast your spell. Take the vallaslin away." She squeezed his arm in reassurance, translating her thoughts through the tender gesture, as talking never seemed to quite work between the two of them.

"Sit." She closed her eyes, and felt strange tingling on her skin, as his magic washed over her face. She could feel it, when he was done, and opened her eyes.

"Ar lasa mara levas. You are free." The words sounded ritualistic, so she simply nodded, and looked up in uncertainty. There was an admiration in his look, as he run a hand over the unblemished skin with reverence. "You are so beautiful." She allowed herself to be pulled closer, and met his mouth eagerly, thankful, but at the same time greedy for his touch. The kiss lasted shorter than she expected, and she grunted in protest when he pulled away, but the strange look on his face caused her to freeze, suddenly panicked.

"And I am sorry. I have distracted you from your duty. It'll never happen again."

The vain hope remained, that maybe he would take it back, even though his words left no doubts as to his intentions. "Solas…" The tremble in her voice was unmistakably pleading, _don't say that._

"Please, vhenan." That was the first time he came this close to begging her, for _anything. _She felt tremors racking over her body, the first signs of shock. _The moment I asked you to stay, you want to walk away._

Even though she knew it wouldn't stop him, she swallowed her pride and said the words that were on her lips countless times before, but went unspoken. She would have never forgiven herself, if she didn't state that clearly. "Solas, don't leave. Not now. I love you…" Her eyes expressed the feelings far better than the words could, and as she made a tentative step in his direction, he jerked back forcefully, creating a distance between them.

Her confession hit him hard, and he closed his eyes in pain, his words full of regret and honesty. "You have a rare and marvellous spirit. In another world…"

"Why not this one?" She was on the verge of tears, blinking rapidly, trying to keep them at bay for a moment longer. _Why isn't my love enough?_

"I can't. I'm sorry."

She didn't remember how she returned back to Skyhold, blindly making her way to her quarters, unable to see through the river of tears. She collapsed on the bed, the pain constricting her chest.

_I'm drowning._


	16. The Inquisitor Arc Part Six

Inspired by:

1. Requiem for A Dream theme song

2. Frozen – Within Temptation

**The Inquisitor Arc Part Six – The End of the World**

She was sitting in her private quarters, staring blindly on the empty wall, feeling her heart crumble into pieces. It's not like it was entirely unexpected, in fact some part of her was long since aware of the inevitability of this outcome, and yet… _Mythal, why does it hurt so much? _She curled into a foetal position, shaking from silent sobs. Yet no tears fell. None since the fitful sleep, when she collapsed on the bed after her return. The pain was too great to allow any release. It hurt to think, her mind recalling _his_ words over and over again, like a broken record. It hurt to breathe, her chest constricted, as if somebody had torn out her lungs. It hurt to _live. _A mute scream arose within her, an outcry against the world that sought to tear her apart, and the male who dealt her this mortal wound. She felt her strength slowly sapping away, limbs going numb, her body protesting against the mental strain. She caught gasping breaths, fighting for consciousness, _I'm drowning. _And then she blanked out.

The night passed far too quickly, and then there was a panicked messenger at her door, bloodying his fists on the wood to get her attention. There was nothing she wanted more than to tell him to go away, _leave me be. _Let the world take care of its dire problems on its own just this once, because she wasn't ready to face it. But there was one thing left in her, her pride, and so she forced her weak legs to _fucking move_, and let the male in. She didn't hear his frantic report, his words strangely slippery, difficult to grasp with her dazed mind, but one thing reached her – _Corypheus. _

She knew then, that was important. She threw the male outside, and leaned against the doorframe, sagging onto her knees. She made a promise, owed it to the world, to her people, to her pledge, but first and foremost to _herself_, to finish this. Steeling herself, she began picking up her heart's pieces, patching them up in a makeshift work, just enough to pull through, just enough to detach herself from the crippling pain. Pushing her feelings down, locking them away, because right now that wasn't important, she wasn't important. Elaine felt cold, and curiously distant, when she finally glanced in the mirror, and found a stranger there looking back, _were my eyes always this lifeless?_ When she went out, there was almost no tremor in her hands, no shaking in her countenance, as she passed by the scared people, her stride surer with each step.

Her advisors were panicked, reports of Corypheus getting closer with each moment flooding in from subsequent outposts set up by far-sighted Leliana. Elaine regarded them with mild interest, otherwise unaffected by the atmosphere. It seemed like a broken heart was having some unexpectedly useful effects – when one didn't care about life, fear of death wasn't a concern.

They looked up at her nervously, a question on their faces. Their army was still on the way, returning from the Temple, and therefore they couldn't count on military support. Elaine smiled coldly, and pointed out that his own forces also couldn't have reached Skyhold in time, which meant dealing solely with the monster.

And then there was no more time for deliberations, as the once-closed Breach was forcefully torn open again, the Anchor glowing in response. _He is calling._ Josephine voiced her shock, this was suicidal – if the Breach wasn't closed, the whole world could be swallowed, and the creatures life would be at peril as well. The female elf simply stared at her squarely, with ridicule in her eyes, _you are trying to understand a madman? He feels backed into a corner, and wants to deal with the one who foiled all his plans – me. And with the Inquisition, by extension. _ But there was no alarm to these thoughts, only an aloof awareness, as she chose her companions carefully, to accompany her on this final quest.

She paused only for the briefest moment, before asking Solas to go with her, an echo of pain resounding in her head. But there was a task to fulfil, and she fought with the elf most often out of all companions, could predict his combat moves with her eyes closed. So she held herself firmly, squashing even the slightest hesitation, enclosing herself behind adamant walls of resolve and detaching herself from the unnecessary emotions. And if her voice turned mechanical, and her look lost it usual brightness, well. Life wasn't perfect. And even more so, she wasn't perfect.

The setting was similar to the one she once had a nightmares of, resembling the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. But somehow, Corypheus opened a Breach more than before, rising the mountains in the proof of its powers, and intimidation. It even might have succeeded, had she not been entirely drained of care, and more than ready to end it all, one way or another. And if the world ended, well, at least she wouldn't be there anymore, to watch the results of her failure.

The creature called for its pet to kill them – a really _shocking_ turn of events. _You might want to work on your plans more in the next lifetime, should you aim for world domination once more, _thought cynically Elaine, as a golden dragon intercepted the attack mid-flight, dealing a grave wound to the other beast. They tumbled from the impact, crashing onto the ground heavily. Both of them roared, a deafening battle cry, before taking off to continue the fight in a more familiar territory. _Did you really think we wouldn't try to somehow deal with your most valuable toy? _Though she found herself slightly curious, how Morrigan achieved the transformation. She had no doubts it was the witch, and that the voices from the Well taught her the way, as she once saw the woman change into a bird. But there was obviously a vast difference between a change in a minor animal, and a magnificent dragon.

And then they had to face off against the magister. It was a hard battle, Corypheus commanded unusual magics, unlike any they had seen. It teleported across the battlefield, and if it had not been blinded by rage and keen on killing her, Elaine wasn't certain they could have ever come with any reliable plan to trap it. And it used a wide array of area spells and physical attacks, they needed every ounce of the past experiences to survive it…

Cast, dodge and take cover. The moves of this lethal dance more familiar than the ballroom one you practiced for so long. Glide away from the claws, hide behind Cassandra's towering shield. Feel the protective magic of Solas, and the sadness it evokes. But the battle is too heated to think, so just _stop thinking._ The creature screams when one of your spells hits it. But no time to rejoice, as you stumble over the rock, and have to run, _run _from the death raining from the sky. The flames catch on to your clothes. You put them out with your hand, scalding it, but you don't feel the pain, high on adrenaline. The dragons roar above all of your heads, on the edge of your awareness. Dodge, take cover and cast. The creature is weakening in front of your eyes, but so are you. You are no Cassandra, honed by years of severe training. You get tired. You are no Solas, who uses his moves so efficiently, there is little weariness to be felt. You make missteps, and then have to compensate for them. You are no Varric, his tried wits allowing him to predict enemy movements, even one such as this. You evade at the last moment, often not entirely successfully. Take cover, cast and dodge. Dance, little mage, dance or die.

The trance was suddenly broken, when the dragons fell from the sky, tremors shaking the land. Corypheus used this opportunity to teleport away, clearly hoping to regain some of its strength, gather its powers back. And they readied to face the monstrous, disfigured dragon, Elaine sparing one glance in the direction of Morrigan, curled up and severely hurt a few paces away. But once again, there was no time to care, as they turned to another deadly enemy. They didn't have much longer before it's master return, to assists the beast.

Fortunately, it appeared that the witch in her dragon form dealt the creature heavy wounds, its movements slow and sluggish. It couldn't fly, with mutilated wings, it just jumped away when it tried to gain distance, flapping them in a pitiful manner. In a way, it was much easier than their fight with a high dragon, over a year ago. They were much more experienced now, and the beast far from its best. When they deal a final blow, it shrieked terribly, before its head hit the ground, strange reddish glowing entity leaving its body. Corypheus recalled it to itself, straightening up and challenging them once again.

Yet this time, the battle seemed easier. Even though he regained some of his missing powers, it appears Morrigan had been told the truth, and the demise of its pet weakened him greatly. The steps came somehow easier, or maybe it was just the magister, who with its strength failing it had become more predictable? The fight had an anticlimactic end, the madman calling for assistance of its long-fallen gods, and trying to drain more power from the orb. The Anchor glows, and Elaine calls with all her might for the artifact, and is not very surprised when it listens to her will. The creature dropped to its knees, completely defeated. Yet this time, the battle seemed easier. Even though he regained some of his missing powers, it appears Morrigan had been told the truth, and the demise of its pet weakened him greatly. The steps came somehow easier, or maybe it was just the magister, who with its strength failing it had become more predictable? The fight had an anticlimactic end, the madman calling for assistance of its long-fallen gods, and trying to drain more power from the orb. The Anchor glows, and Elaine called with all her might for the artifact, and was not very surprised when it listened to her will, popping into her hand. The creature dropped to its knees, completely defeated.

And then a sudden idea strikes her, a solution to all their worries. She reached within, to the glowing mark, and sent him to the Fade – the magister will never return. And it wouldn't be able to survive for much longer, surrounded by power hungry demons, its own magic having been depleted from the strain. Had they tried to imprison Corypheus the way Wardens did, there was no telling when it would break free again. It was after all immortal, had all the time in the world to recover. But the demons were certain to tear it apart in the pathetic state that the creature was, and it had nothing to offer them to prevent this.

The orb however broke apart from the strain, and she left it behind. She expressed her sorrow to Solas, for not having been able to save it, but she didn't regret the choice she made. The elf waved her away, and she listened, the mask of indifference reasserting itself on her face. The pain she felt looking at him washes out, once more pushed away, not acknowledged. She refused to feel sad in this moment of victory, she refused to feel broken, even if the alternative was not much better, as she was awash with coldness instead.

They had much to celebrate, and as they returned triumphantly to Skyhold. There was a grand feast, arranged by the master of such ceremonies, Josephine, the lady ambassador giddy from happiness. Though she excused herself early, unable to partake in the festivities in the emotionless state she enforced on herself, Elaine stopped to exchange a few words with the group who helped her along the way. Her companions expressed their satisfaction with the outcome, and most of them decided to stay, until the last of the Rifts were dealt with. All save one person, missing.

She felt it when he left, even though she didn't watch. Some part of her wondered why his leaving didn't hurt, but her mind supplied her with an unwanted truth – it simply _couldn't_ hurt more. The pain was numbing, so she hid behind the wall of duties, reminding herself that now was not yet the time to fall apart, pushing her feelings down, confining them forcefully to a small corner of her soul. They stay locked up, a bleeding wound in her that refused to close, but as long as she didn't think on it, she could ignore it. It served her well in the following weeks, when they dealt with the aftermath of the battle, people wavering between elation from the win, and uncertainty about the future. Too well. She found herself slipping further and further into the emotionless state, it was far easier not to feel, rather than face the pain.

As the importance, direness of the tasks dropped, fewer and fewer things roused her interest. And then a time came when she couldn't break her own walls, her apathy gone too far. _I closed myself off, and now I've lost the key. _But even these thoughts held no worry, she treated her own plight with a detached curiosity of a scientist.

She placed Cassandra on the seat of the Divine, in one of the rare moments of lucidity realizing it would be beyond reckless giving Leliana even more power than the one she already held. The Rifts grew rare and far between, until no news of them were received, and the majority of Inquisition's assignments was reduced to peace keeping. Her companions started leaving, one by one returning to their former lives. She watched them go indifferently, distant and unable to bring herself to care. Even if those people were the ones she spent these past three years with, and saved her life countless times, it wasn't enough. She fell further and further into this inert depression, and only Morrigan's departure after her wounds healed, ignited a spark of reaction, a fleeting sadness. The witch was her closest friend in the madness, because even with _that person,_ there was no honesty.

She went about her tasks automatically, a soulless doll with no purpose, no goal. And then a first letter came, unexpected, but somehow dear. She felt a layer of her indifference weakening, as she was a bit moved, while reading the words of the witch. It was a trivial missive, relating a few encounters Morrigan had with superstitious farmers, and a close escape she made when some of them grew too terrified of her, and intended to burn the woman. Elaine surprised herself with a short chuckle at the indignation the witch expressed, that they were not taken with her sunny personality. And she proceeded with a response, directed to a place the witch indicated she will be visiting, a few words far from the truth about herself, and a plea for more messages.

Her months passed then on waiting for the letters from the witch, in between dealing with the small remainder of her duties. The words the witch sent were like a water, relentlessly chipping away at the stony prison Elaine encased herself with. Drip, drip, the droplets driving a hole, a way for her to break free. She started showing more signs of life, a quick smile, a short worry, a touch of interest in a wounded soldiers, and a bit of sadness the witch had to leave.

And then, a letter and a mirror shattered her walls.

_My dear, dear Inquisitor, your missives are positively dreary. You grew a bit boring, did you know? Though I can guess at a reason behind your escape from reality, you might want to rethink your stance. You busy yourself with meaningless things that bring you no joy, a once inspiring, bright person turned a lifeless clerk. Even as far away from you as I am, it's hard to accept your magnificent spirit fall. The life will pass you by, and you won't even realize it gone. _

_On that note, I suggest you find something of interest to occupy your time. Skyhold has grown dull as of late, and I think you ought to find out more about the Anchor, which, I believe, you still have on your hand. Isn't it interesting, that even after the orb fell apart, it remained? _

_The Temple of Mythal might hold some answers about the ancient elven magic that was used to create it. I am quite certain I passed by an archive of some sort, when I chased that fool to stop him from destroying his heritage. The voices say that the Temple used to take care of orphans, and teach them, and these are their textbooks. While I doubt you will find a direct explanation there, it might be a good place to look for some clues._

_And there's also an Eluvian there, I remember mine used to fascinate you. While the lack of key to open it might prove a bit detrimental, there's nothing preventing you from analysing the materials or magic cast upon it. Go, and have fun, my dear. You are overdue some entertainment of your own._

Elaine's interest was sparked, and she looked at her marked hand thoughtfully. She rose from behind the desk, and still pondering on witch's advice, glanced in the mirror absentmindedly. And she froze in shock.

Her appearance was unchanged. For these past years, she was almost certain, she hadn't aged. The unmarked skin – and she was _not _thinking about that - glowed with teen youth, even though she was already past her childhood years. _It's impossible._ But she had doubts, as she rushed to see the one person which might answer her questions. Three years was not a long enough time to mark you strongly, even if the worries she had should have affected her.

"Cole" she whispered, calling for the spiritual being that dwelled within the fortress. He answered the summon promptly, as usual, even though months had passed since the last time she saw him.

"You are hurt… Would you allow me to help?" he asked shyly, raising his hand to touch her. But she was still _not_ thinking about it, focusing instead on the issue that finally broke her passiveness.

"Cole, can you tell me if the mark makes me different than other elves?"

"Your spirit shines brightly" he responded quizzically, and she wanted to scream in frustration at the being who saw everything in relation to soul. "It was always brighter than others. I cannot say if it is the mark."

She sighed, realizing any questions were pointless, and she had to search for answers elsewhere, but he continued. "It was dim these past months, flickering. I was worried, we were all worried."

"Thank you, Cole" she turned ready to leave, but stopped at his next words.

"Do you want to forget?"

The idea had its appeal, but as her feelings resurged, she knew it would be a wrong choice. She was a coward for long enough.

"No."

She returned to her rooms, resolute. _I don't want to forget._ And then the dam finally broke, and she cried, mourning her lost love, awash with burning pain. But the tears were liberating, as she was letting go of all the sadness, grieving her broken heart, but first and foremost, grieving her lost time with the male. One by one, memories flashing through her head – their first meeting, first kiss, first dance. The gentleness and kindness, and most importantly, love she was shown, and showed herself.

_It hurts, because I was happy. It hurts, because it is worth remembering._


	17. Interlude Three Part One

Ironically, this is the first chapter of the story I have written down. I was undecided then, whether I wanted to really try writing again, and surprisingly, it didn't turn out all that horrible, or unreadable. And please, be kind to my imagination. I probably would be very put out, if you criticized my original ideas. Feel free to criticize the language, and the grammar, and all that stuff :P.

Inspired by:

1. Human Legacy – Ivan Torrent

2. Shadows – Lindsay Stirling

**Interlude Three Part One – Finding Magic **

Day 1 (since leaving Skyhold)

I've decided to pick up recording of my travels yet again – I've not done it properly since that fateful journey to the Conclave, but seeing as once more I have only myself for a company, organising ones thoughts a bit cannot be harmful. Myself and a bunch of faceless soldiers (an _honour guard)_, since that was as far as Leliana's generosity run – and her patience with me. I do not think the sudden request for a vacation was kindly received, seeing as she was still a bit worried about my near suicidal behaviour. I must admit, her worries are not entirely without reason.

And truth to be told, my body has weakened during the recent… inaction. The escort might not be entirely unwarranted, as I find myself in doubt when it comes to my abilities to dealing with unexpected.

It took less arguing than I thought though, to get them to agree. My case that the area is still largely under our control brought their hesitant concurrence, and then I just had to fight how many people will accompany me on the trek. I even managed to enforce them returning back to one of the nearby camps, once we reached our goal, pointing out that their presence wouldn't be necessary in the Temple. That means I will get time alone.

Ever since leaving the Skyhold, my mood is much improved. Morrigan was right, and apparently knows me better than I knew myself - I definitely needed a change of pace, to leave that place so full of memories. I doubt they will notice my absence much, that with no rifts remaining and the small conflicts between Templars and Mages kept under watchful control. The journey to my destination will take a couple of days, but I already feel happier knowing that I'll be able to study our culture again, and hopefully, find some answers. If there was one thing that I truly missed from my time with the Clan, it was the freedom to immerse myself in the past after my duties were finished.

I find myself wondering about the point of this writing, since all of my previous attempts have ended up ruined in more or less unusual circumstances. The first set blown apart along with the rest of my meagre belongings with the Conclave's destruction, the second, less dramatically, wasted by the spilled wine in my rooms. I cannot imagine what fate awaits this one. I might even burn them of my own volition, if they end up being too compromising.

Day 5

I _finally_ arrived at the Temple. The travelling left me once again disillusioned when it comes to people's attitudes towards elves – even when I was paying them, innkeepers and merchants were disdainful and unpleasant. That is, until my entourage caught up, and then they were all disgustingly eager to please, I have left all the shopping to my underlings in the end. And when I think of my brethren having to serve those people, treating us in such way, I feel pained. Those are the times when I think Dalish made the easier choice, to remove themselves from these unwelcoming communities. It must take a great deal of courage, to remain amidst those scorning you so much. Even among my clanmates, where I was perceived as a harbinger of misfortune (and a waste of perfectly good food), my treatment was kinder.

Then again, there is no way I could imagine myself following the ways of the Maker – even if our gods have left us, at least they were _ours_. Maker has eyes mostly for humans, that much is perfectly clear (and whether that's a blessing or a curse, still remains to be seen, from my personal viewpoint. Note to myself – mustn't let Leliana or Mother Giselle near this writings. _Ever_. Actually, burning them after all this is done seems to be the best solution).

The area seems uninhabited, but I will refrain from making any conclusive assumptions, and scout it properly – it wouldn't do to be killed by random bandits when crazy Magister failed spectacularly at the task, now would it? For now, camping in the known woods seems more prudent than barging in exhausted after the journey.

Day 7

It seems Abelas and his guardians truly left this place. I'm mostly relieved, for I did not relish the possibility of meeting them again, but then there's a part of me that wishes someone remained – I could use some help in uncovering the history of these walls, and treasures within.

I sent the soldiers back to the camp. I have no more use for them here, I am perfectly capable to deal with mosquitoes and snakes on my own.

Day 8

I almost killed myself accidentally. _Again_. It seems I've grown too reliant on my companions helping me watch my back (and feet) so I don't trip and break a neck or something. Well, at least during _The Incident Which Shall Not Be Mentioned_, and coincidentally spectacularly spraining my ankle, I have uncovered something akin to a private library or a small archive, most likely the one Morrigane mentioned. Which is perfect, really, for not only I found a place to stay with a solid roof over my head, I also stumbled upon the main objective of my weekly trek here. (The sad thing about this whole ordeal – stumbling was decidedly literal. I wish I could attribute the discovery to my wits, or at least keen instincts, but alas…).

Tis remarkable, how the Temple's magic preserved these tomes from the bite of time, by all logic, if I judge their age closely to the truth, these all should be but a specks of dust on the floor long ago, and yet they remain.

Of course, the language is completely unintelligible.

Day 13

The books I found remain undecipherable. I'm going around in circles, my knowledge of the ancient Elvhen still but a few words. The language changed so much… I wish I could ask Mamae for answers, but with Frissalia in charge not only I cannot expect a favourable response, I doubt she even has the expertise to help me in the first place! Oh, what I would have given to be able to Apprentice to the Keeper, all those years ago.

Morrigan also would have proved an immense help, but I have no way of contacting her out in the wilds, and her letters come so randomly I could hardly count on them.

Onto a more positive note, the leg is healed well enough to allow for some riding. Which is marvellous, because I wasn't keen on subjecting myself to random roots and herbs diet, and with my supplies steadily running out it's high time I visited some of the locals. I could probably request them directly from one of the Inquisition's camps, but some training would not be remiss to return to full capability.

Day 14

The first nearby settlement was just on the edge of the Arbor Wilds forests, a feeble attempt at claiming these lands for humans. I was secretly pleased at their utter failure in the task, carefully hiding my glee as I watched the nature retaking the felled clearings faster than the woodsmen claimed them. The mankind's failure to go along their surrounding environment never ceased to amaze me – the elves would never attempt at such a futile task, preferring instead to fit their houses into the inherent curves and arches created by the plants. Then again, when humans fail at something, they resort to their only and constant solution – overcome the opposing element by overwhelming numbers and sheer stubbornness. I had no doubts that in time, the mighty forest will be conquered, but for now it stood tall, proud and unbending.

I was greeted, as was typical, with sneers and suspicion, as farmers checked and double checked my coin for its worth. The myths of thieving, cheating elves were more prominent on the countryside than in the cities, and I bore with it patiently. I had not much choice, as the next village was at least half-a-days' worth of journey further, and I had no wish to leave my tasks for longer than was absolutely necessary.

With my supplies replenished, I informed the slightly mollified settlers that I might return at some point for more, and gladly left the dwellings behind, as I rode back to the Temple.

Day 16

I have no doubts that these used to be textbooks, the detailed explanations and graphics clear indicators of as much. I've found a few passages in the tomes I've brought with me from Skyhold that seem promising. The process is agonizingly slow, though the exploration of the Temple itself is immensely helpful – some of the graphics with their descriptions remain more or less intact, and the guesswork there at least has some pointers. I also explored the surroundings more closely, as one can only be cooped in the paperwork for some time before it drives one crazy – and long walks help me think.

The reliefs in particular are amazingly accurate and beautiful, well preserved from the passage of time. While most of the statues cracked, crumbled under the pressure of ages past, these carvings and the magic of the place holds strong. There's nothing in current times that could even begin to compare to this longevity, this perseverance. Our artisan's works require attention every ten years or so, minor repairs and adjustments, the edges wearied by the wind and dust. Humans are even further behind.

Day 17

The messenger from the Skyhold brought a reassuring news – no immediate, requiring attention crisis on the horizon. It seems my break can continue on… I'm relieved. The man was visibly disturbed by the surroundings, and left in a hurry after I dismissed him. I couldn't comprehend his distress – didn't he see the mystical beauty of this place?

By the way, how, for Andruil's Mercy, did Leliana acquire this scroll? No, I will not ask – I'm afraid to know the answer. Even though I asked for it years ago, I'm thankful she remembered, and I'm deeply in her debt. Then again, I rid the world of the _ultimate evil_, so maybe we can call it even.

She mentioned in her letter that her people found it several months ago, but considering the _circumstances, _she decided to withhold the knowledge from me until now. Unusually empathic gesture. Not that it wasn't unwarranted, for I cannot say what reaction the reminder of _that person_ would have brought.

The translation process will now progress at a much faster pace – maybe I will even finish it in this lifetime!

Day 21

The notes are starting to become clearer, and I finally started to weed out the books that hold absolutely no interest to me, currently – like the ones pertaining to herblore, or any religious discourses, or even historical ones. For now, I need to know more about magic.

They seem to describe spells that I've already encountered, back when I was searching far and wild for any craps of ancient knowledge while remaining with Lavellan". Of course I have attempted at them before, and failed spectacularly, with not even a spark of magical reaction showing. I'm certain these passages hold a key to understanding my failures, and that pushes me and motivates more than anything before. It's kind of ironic, that even while fighting for my life, I was less engaged than when studying this forgotten wisdoms. I'm certain Corypheus would have been offended, knowing that all his exploits couldn't hold a candle to the importance I place in these dusty old tomes.

Actually I better not mention that little titbit to anyone. They might feel _slightly _exasperated, realising I hold the fate of the world at such low esteem. "Herald" indeed!

Day 24

I have to force myself away from the books these days, reminding myself to eat and sleep properly. I feel like I'm on a brink of a major breakthrough, but the answers keep eluding me. The accurate meaning of sentences eludes me, proving to be as much of a challenge as I expected. Here, let me quote the part I'm particularly confused about, which describes, I believe, a process of speeding up growth for sprouts of flowers or herbs (the actual term could be roughly translated to: small living plants without wooden parts).

"Ritual/ceremony/Rite needs/requires/demands great deal of care and accuracy (prudency) from participants. The Saevhen (moving people? In motion? Or is it some sort of term describing practitioners of magic from these times?) have to follow steps (of the ritual?) while listening/hearing to the flow/path of power (magic?)."

The passage describes then the motions that need to be attempted – I have of course tested them multiple times, and there's no tug or flow whatsoever – I feel like a freaking windmill, flailing my hands about, trying to get it right. It also mentions some sort of a trigger required for the ritual to be "ground" into reality or maybe the word should be settled? Well, I'll get to that when the time is right, for now I cannot even manage for the magic to pick up on my intent!

I'm going for a walk.

Day 26

The passage remains unsolved. I've taken to long walks in ruins, I cannot stand looking at my notes anymore, the frustration just piling up steadily. I've also begun randomly freezing unsuspecting insects, as a way of releasing some of the stress, and because my concentration is not at its peak, the annoying buzzing sounds breaking it easily. I'm glad no one can see my state of dishevel – last time I felt like that was when I was fifteen!

Day 29

I got it! I finally got it! Oh, and it explains so much!

But let us start at the beginning. The day had begun as usual for me – with skimming yet again through all of my notes, hoping for some kind of inspiration to strike. After the attempt proved futile, I have abandoned the dimly lit archive to take my customary walk through the Temple. As I was traversing through what I believed to be servant quarters, I encountered a relief that had thus far escaped my attention. The graphic depicted people in a semicircle, stuck in strange, unnatural poses. After staring onto the wall for time that seemed like hours, I had a revelation – they were dancing! And the Saehven, people in motion, must have meant Dancers! My ancestors _danced_ their magic!

No wonder my previous, lackluster tries went without a response, I had gravely misinterpreted the motions. I must immediately try again.

Day 31

Well, I managed to get _some _reaction. And now that I think about it, I can see traces of that heritage in the movements of Knight Enchanters, who are said to have originate from the most ancient of elven arts. And even some of _that person_ spells were more than just hand motions, I simply didn't see it then. But while the ways of the Knight Enchanter had been clearly adjusted, simplified to allow anyone to learn, this… this requires a higher concentration, the smallest misstep unravelling the whole intention.

I have barely learned to listen to the flow of magic, responding to my initial wishes, the hum so low it almost seems to come from within me. The strands of power, waiting to follow the right pull, but I'm clumsy, and I have never done anything like this before. The lack of proper guidance is daunting, I have to go through everything through trial and error, when the wrong flick of a hand, or a head bent at the inappropriate angle are enough to have to try and start at the beginning.

And I still have no clear idea what the _trigger_ is, the one to make my casting more than a simply organized flow of magic. Directing it that way is pleasing, but pretty much pointless if it does not do anything more than that.

Day 32

I might have an inkling what this trigger could be, one of the past conversations with _that person_ ringing in my head, but… No. Impossible.

Day 35

I've been to the village once more yesterday, replenishing the supplies.

Truthfully a disappointment grows within me – I believed to have hit a major breakthrough, that with finally figuring out the basics behind the ancient's spellwork. And I did so – partially. I can feel, _hear,_ the flow of magic just fine, even direct it now with some degree of success, but finishing it all up – that is the problem.

And despite all the success, I'm not any closer to finding the answer to the question what my mark truly is, the golden glow as strange as it always was. I had hoped these tomes could bring me closer to that knowledge, maybe indicating what was happening with me, or where to find the answers to the orb's origins that was the start of all this trouble. No such luck, the orbs are not mentioned in any of these tomes, and believe me, I searched. Repeatedly.

Day 36

Desperation made me seek foolhardy measures, and I've attempted a summoning ritual I found in the texts, focusing on the very much needed answers – trying to get the attention of one of the Spirits of Wisdom. Most shockingly, it _had_ succeeded, in spite of being decidedly incomplete, in spite of lack of the elusive trigger. I looked at the golden being that responded to my call in wonder, when it – he – spoke. Decidedly male, though his features were otherwise lost in the glow his body emitted.

"Well, little bird, you must have had a purpose behind this…" he searched for a word "…failed attempt at summoning."

"But you are here" I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind.

"The credit for that belongs solely to me, for you are far from successful in your wielding of your natural magic" disapproval was evident in his voice, and then he explained further. "I felt your call, that much is true, but you have not broken the barrier between the worlds, or paid for my passage, thus forcing me had to exert my own powers to do so."

I gathered my frantic thoughts, accepting the critique in stride. Truthfully, I had not expected the endeavour to succeed, and thus had no clear questions prepared, only a vague notion about some of the issues I needed answered. "You wanted to speak with me as well then?" I finally asked, surprised.

"I was curious about you." He admitted freely, adding, "As the one with the potential to change the world." His tone grew insistent, heated even, "How long are you going to allow yourself to be chained so? When are you going to try at fulfilling your true promise?"

I was confused, and said, "But I've already done away with Corypheus" answering his accusations.

He snorted in an almost _mortal_ like manner, as one of my companions would, surprising me even more. "And was that what you wanted to do, or were you simply dragged along by the flow of events?" I had no response to that, other than slumping a bit, guilty as charged.

He continued then, seeing as I had kept quiet, catching me off guard. "You have the ability to make your wishes come true, yet you let yourself down by your own hand. Shake away all that holds you back, and you will have all the answers you seek – or the means to get them."

He started vanishing, and I exclaimed, panicked "I beg you, answer me, just one question."

"I doubt you truly need my answer, chained bird, but only one – that much I can give." He stopped shimmering, and awaited, visibly impatient.

I thought frantically, rummaging my head in an attempt to form the words properly. "Have I truly stopped aging, like the elves of old? Am I immortal?" I decided to address the issue that distressed me the most, woke me from my apathy, forgoing the remainder of my queries.

He laughed at me, "My, out of all your many questions, this is the one I thought least important. You already knew the answer to that, harbinger of change." I glared at him, annoyed by his mockery, but already suspecting what response I would receive. "But I'll grant you what I promised – indeed, you've become like your ancient kin, your time frozen." He disappeared then, without any other word.

I suppose I should be glad I received at least _one_ straight answer. The rest of his speech confuses the hell out of me.

Day 37

_Fucking spirits with their_ _cryptic riddles!_


	18. Interlude Three Part Two

Author's Notes

Please, do not mind the distances that much. I have searched the Internet, finding various theories when it came to the size of Thedas, and found no concrete answers, so this is my speculation, how long it would take to cross the continent from south to north, at the highest speed possible.

Inspired by:

1. And we run ft. Xzibit – Within Temptation

2. New Life – Thomas Bergersen

**Interlude Three Part Two – Bird of Change **

Day 39

I spent these past few days analysing the ominous words the Spirit told me. I started, step by step, from the beginning, with how he called me – harbinger of change. And I had to think – hadn't I done that already? He spoke of an unfulfilled promise, but hadn't the Inquisition already become a force affecting the world?

And I came to a painful conclusion, that while my organization had indeed the power to move the mountains, the reality remained unchanged. In the end, we barely interfered, pushing only when matters truly got out of hand. Cassandra took the seat of the Divine, and restored the Circles of Magi, and most of the Templars left the Inquisition, to rebuild their fallen order. The situation from before the terrible war returned, and while I had no better solution, it was only a matter of time before it all blew up again.

The City Elves remained oppressed, my crucial role in preventing the apocalypse largely ignored by the human population. The Dalish still strayed away from Shemlen, and didn't even attempt to use my position for their gain, too proud for their own good. My original intention, being an ambassador bringing humans and my race together, remained empty vow, with no prospects in sight.

After recognizing sadly that the Spirit's words held truth within, seeing clearer than I would have been able to without his inciting, I delved into the more controversial issue he mentioned. The chains, which apparently prevented me from achieving something _world-changing_, which I _allowed_ to exist.

What did he mean by that? Did the Inquisition restrain me? My… - I swallowed a thick lump in my throat – my feelings, did these hold me back? Or maybe it was what I was taught? Or, going even further back, was it my Dalish origin? Possibly, _all these_ together?

The task of gazing into my soul was not a pleasant one. It is a most humbling experience, when I analysed my motives, and found them far from noble. One begins to see one's deeds in a demeaning light, when one cannot lie before oneself why they transpired. I began to feel ashamed of myself, and of the pride that motivated some of my actions. I found many things that I didn't like there, which I would change, if I could. But there was no altering the past, I could only move forward, learning from these experiences. As long as I stopped turning a blind eye, I might have some hope for improvement.

So I started to tear down the layers that consisted into my very being, beginning from the outer one. I helped to shape Inquisition – but it did have a hand in shaping me as well. I took too much pride in being the Inquisitor, not realizing how restricting it was in reality. I stopped pursuing my own goals, started to view everything in terms of usefulness to the organization, what would benefit the community. But underneath all that, Inquisition was a mostly _human_ institution, even with an elf at its head, and it followed human whims. I never cared about them, but I allowed myself to be roped into doing things that favoured Shemlen, in spite of my own beliefs, letting the needs of Inquisition influence my actions (the single stunt with Briala hardly counted, being an exception born from my utter _outrage_). While it was certainly justified, to some degree, with the threat of Corypheus, I could have stopped months ago. But I was a leader of them long enough – why, I stopped protesting the necessity of a honour guard, the moment Leliana pushed, even though I came here in search of _privacy_ – to forget what it felt like to have my own dreams, unblemished by other factors.

The next thick layer was consisted of my feelings, shaping me since childhood until now. I was grieving my friends, and swore revenge in their name – but I allowed that to dictate my actions in far too many instances. I could have put my feet down, for them to respect my culture, my customs – instead, I sneaked around like a thief, guilty of some crime, while performing the respectful rituals. As if I had something to be ashamed of, as if my customs were less worthy than theirs.

Then there was an incident with Sera – I know now, the irritation with her was at least partially related to the fact I was simply uncomfortable with her. Underneath the façade, there was a hurt, young woman in her, and subconsciously I must have wondered – would I have become just like her, had I been abandoned at childhood, as my Clan _intended_? I saw in her a distorted image of myself, broken by the anger, broken by the world. And what if there was no Inquisition, no Corypheus, and I had nowhere to go after the Conclave? Would I have gone to Measte, for the lack of other options, just because he offered, a kept woman by his side? What was there that guaranteed I wouldn't have started lashing out at everything, to take my revenge for the unfairness? At least Sera confined her acts to the self-imposed, strange morality, trying to justify it by targeting only those, in her mind, _deserving._These thoughts soon became disturbing, and I stopped pursuing the depressing what ifs, deciding to try and reconcile with the elven archer, should the possibility arise.

The next issue took every ounce of my courage to tackle, as the scars on my heart were still fresh. But I resolved to do the introspection properly, without self-pity, so there was no avoiding the next topic. I almost turned the beautiful thing I shared with _that person_ into something regrettable. _He _never promised me anything, and I was, on some level, conscious of that – I purposefully refrained from pushing these boundaries. These feelings should have motivated me instead, that maybe, maybe just around the corner another wonderful experience awaits. Did I really grow so _arrogant_ to believe I would be able to stop him from pursuing his goals? _He_ implied from the beginning, that we were living on borrowed time.

My months of depression are inexcusable – I oughtn't have allowed myself that much indulgence. While I suspect the matter got out of hand mostly because I had to recover _immediately_, and wasn't given time to get over the issue, before having to fight for the fate of the world, there is much that I lost due to these months of stupidity. I do not remember Blackwall, or Iron Bull leaving at all. Dorian came to say his goodbyes, but I have only a vague recollection of that. I lost that time, and I actually liked most of them, and yet let them slip away without giving them proper respect, or honest well wishes they so deserved. Disgraceful.

Having mused over my feelings, the time came to ponder on the teachings I received. From many conversations with _that person_, I knew the Dalish were wrong on many instances, when it came to the lore, legends, or magical knowledge. Why, I found the proof within these very walls, the Keeper never having mentioned these magics to me before. And yet I refused the option I was aware of – the trigger could have well been _blood_. _He_ mentioned, that in times of ancient Arlathan, a certain form of blood magic was used. Yet I refused to consider the possibility properly, allowing the Chantry's rules – Shemlen rules – to affect my thinking. If the Spirit had not exerted himself, there is a very strong possibility the entire endeavour would have ended up as a failure. Just because I wouldn't think outside the box, too closed off by my _presumed_ knowledge.

Finally, came the matter of my origin. I was Dalish, and the pride of the clans had not spared me. I could be so unbelievably _condescending_, ridiculing people who wished me well simply because I could – even if it was in the confines of my mind, it did not excuse me. I criticized them within, even my companions, for their lesser wits and inability to connect facts. Was my superior intellect only to be used for such silly, inconsequential verbal spats? What right did I have to judge these people, never having been in their place? What gave me the authority to disapprove Briala's self-preservation? How could I disregard my friends, City Elves, for their servile attitudes, never having gone hungry? I honestly liked them, but I was so damn patronizing, it is a marvel they could stand my presence at all. My attitude also seems unbelievably hypocritical, from current perspective – I was finally at the seat of power, and never tried improving their situation. I could have, some of the Inquisition's resources might have easily been spared.

I was also too quick to judge people – a trait I had attributed to Sera, failing to see it in myself. And I dared to criticize Clans' pride. Really, a pot calling the kettle black, there was no less haughtiness in me. It was sometimes useful (the Corypheus incident comes to mind), but mostly it shaped the way I saw the world far too much.

At the end, stripped bare, was my soul. And then it hit me, and I hardly believed I didn't see it before – at the base of my personality, I cherished my people. Dalish, City, Slaves, or other – it didn't matter, I was an elf, it defined me through and through, I felt the connection deep in my core. That was why I was hit so hard by the eviction from my Clan, even though I received little warmth from them, even after all these years, not quite resigned to that fact. That was why I felt so unbearably guilty after the Conclave's destruction, and I strove so hard to avenge them. I cared.

Later, I found some other virtues in myself, a foundation for the future. I was driven, to the point of insanity, and nothing would stop me short of my goal. I could be brave, generous and kind (could being an imperative word here – I doubt I will ever be all that, constantly. Far too tiring.).

And I promised myself to change for the better, cherishing my strengths, being wary of my faults. To grow as a living being, instead of remaining satisfied with my position, sitting back and watching the world jump at my command, but never actually _commanding_.

After all that, my mind was exhausted, the admissions both painful and liberating. But I still wondered, now what? I have identified my shacles, and began the slow process of freeing myself from their hold. Yet there was no purpose in sight, nothing that roused my interest, or lived up to the presumed grand potential.

And then, a bold idea came to me, a goal that would be both worthy and fulfilling. An outrageous dream, shyly raising its head and twinkling, a light in my shadowed soul. It was still far too young, too unshaped, to be expressed in words, so I refrained from limiting it by giving it any concrete form. It would grow within me, gain more colours, and then I would pursue it, no matter how impossible it would seem. For now, I was satisfied.

It was time to get some decent sleep after the recent, tiring nights.

Day 40

I have absolutely no experience with blood magic, and I can just imagine the _commotion_ it would cause if I started asking questions pertaining to that. In the end, the only option before me was performing live experiments, because I sure as hell wasn't giving up on this unique way of using power, invented by my ancestors.

So I cut the vein on my left hand, hoping that the free flow of blood would be enough, and started dancing, praying that in my recklessness I won't accidentally summon demon. The change I felt was immediate, the thus far soft melody of the flow of magic in the air resounding much louder in my ears. The spell was intended to speed up the growth of plants, and I pulled and tucked at power, so focused I hadn't realized when a seed of a small field flower sprouted and started growing, growing and growing. When I came to my senses, the plant was long dead – it went through the full cycle of life.

But the general notion was right – the blood was a trigger, just as I suspected. This brought me a lot of satisfaction, the long time poured into the research not wasted. The next hours I spent carefully measuring just how much power it would take to grow the little thing, how exactly these spells work.

And of course, in the end, I fainted because of the blood loss. I need to work on being more aware of my limits, the determination only takes one so far before it becomes a _mutilation._

Day 41

No matter my curiosity, I had to take a few days off from practicing the magic, yesterday's exertion still affecting me. Truthfully, I am impatient to continue with the experiments, but now that I have the gist of it, it doesn't necessarily have to be practiced here, in the Temple. Though I will have to take special care to avoid being found out, considering the Chantry's _shining _outlook.

Even the steps of the ritual are not as rigid as I thought – it is the flow and will that shape the magic, not accuracy of the movement, as I initially surmised. The reason why in the beginners' textbooks they underline its importance is because, I suspect, at first people cannot feel the pull of power to compensate for the missteps. So once you can hear, feel this flow, you can make up your own moves, and make the magic work. It is unbelievably versatile technique, limited mainly by imagination. No wonder Abelas snorted at the presumption that Tevinter defeated the ancient Arlathan – how could they? Human magic is so much more restricted…

I am trying to find out the reasons behind it. My speculation is that possibly, humans perceive magic slightly differently than we do, and therefore cannot feel the flow and manipulate it freely. Differences in build? We are distinctive races, after all… It doesn't mean they couldn't use the ritual steps, if they knew them - the techniques of Knight Enchanters a perfect example of that, Vivienne excelled in them, and these, in their origin, manipulate the flow of the wind. Of course, they were largely modified, as no blood is required for their activation. Though I suspect that they might work through the opponents blood, thus circumventing the restrictions placed on acceptable magic by the Chantry.

I spent the day skimming through the textbooks, finding many interesting theories there. I am becoming quite proficient with the language, and have less need to check on my notes. That person once mentioned that most of the elves can learn the ancient language by feeling its rhythm, and there must be some truth in that, because it comes to me unbelievably easily.

In the most ancient theories, the magicians were divided to tenders, benders and menders, each specializing in their own field. Tending was preserving what was, a spells relating to fertility, wards and other things of this nature. Benders changed the natural order in some way, manipulating the elements, creating new entities of the existing ones. Menders, well, they were mending – healers, repairers and the like. But in the end, you cannot create something out of nothing – unlike in the Fade. If you want to grow trees, you need seeds, if you want to build, you need stone. But once you master the technique, you can create true marvels, unlike anything currently seen in this world. I can believe now, that the Arlathan had towers and palaces in the air – though I cannot think what amount of power and technique that required.

Later texts distinguished mages by element they wielded – I found out then, that usually, a person was attracted to one of them, and operated it more efficiently than the others. They also explained that everything around us consisted of all elements, and it was only a matter of proportion. With a enough power applied, one could set water on fire, or make air substantial, like a ground. With directly opposing elements, it usually involved the destruction of the object used, however – calling to air in rocks ended up in blasting them apart, fire doused. I couldn't wait to find out which one sang to me the most, and had to forcefully hold my enthusiasm back. I reminded myself that pushing it too far might slow me down even more, and a little patience could go a long way.

Unfortunately, my Anchor remains as much of a mystery as it ever was, nothing in the textbooks referring to anything close to it. Why did it freeze my time? What was the purpose of the orb? Somehow, I doubt my ancestors made a reality-tearing tool. I blame _that_ effect solely on the creature that attempted to master it.

Day 42

Being patient does come hard to me, especially since there's so much left to discover. Instead of sitting idly by, I have decided to organize the texts, and send some of them back to Skyhold, as my vacation will come to an end someday. Hopefully, not too soon.

I had also considered my apparent immortality – or more precisely, agelessness, as my ancestors were quite killable. It seemed I had no need to rush with my studies, or anything else, having all the time in the world – but on the other hand, it was hard to imagine a better moment for it. My position will only lose its glamour with coming years, as people will begin to forget the danger the world faced. Along with that, the Inquisition will also start to wane, its power dwindling, as the Chantry will doubtlessly try to snatch back some of its influence. If I were to ever alter the world, it would have to be now, or never.

So, no time like current, when I could ask for almost anything and be given that with no questions asked, simply because I _asked._

Day 43

I went to the nearby Inquisition camp, my bags filled with books.

As I looked at the plains outstretching before me, a new idea sprang, something that would drive Leliana nuts. Laughing to myself, I informed the outpost's captain that I will be returning the next day, and rode back.

I packed up a new portion of books, as well as some basic necessities, wrote a short missive, and feeling happy with myself, went to catch some sleep.

Day 44

I was so excited, I barely slept at all.

The whole plan revolved around giving Leliana's people a slip, at least initially. Then I would be out of their reach, and free to journey to my goal.

So I left, and revisited the Inquisition camp, leaving behind most of my bags. I would be travelling light, and ride hard, changing horses frequently – no need to bring with me much more than coin. Still, I kept one of the books on magic, and my research notes, as I would like to practice more at some point.

I also left the note to the captain, instructing him to give it to the next Leliana's messenger that visits their camp.

"But my lady, we haven't gotten any visits from lady Nightingale's people for the past few months" he raised his eyebrows at that.

"This time you will." I smiled, leaving the bewildered man behind, and jumping onto the fresh horse I requested from them.

Day 45

_Do not look for me, I will return in due time._

_ Elaine_

Day 47

I was switching horses midday, galloping as much as their strength allowed them, without killing poor animals. The journey northward was taxing, also for me personally, my body still replenishing the blood from too many experiments. I have painfully bruised legs and behind from the saddle, something I had not experienced since the fateful travelling to the Conclave. It will go away in a few more days, as the body will once again adjust to my demands, for now all I can do is grit my teeth and press on.

The one fortunate thing in this is no lack of funds – truthfully I do not know what I thought, taking so many precious gems with me from my personal stash. These would last me years, even with the irresponsible spending I have inhibited recently, sleeping in the best inns and changing the best horses every six hours of journey. But it was fun, speeding recklessly across the vast farmlands, to rest in feathered cushions and eat tasty food.

And I was in Val Royeaux already.

I spent half a day in Orlais capital, indulging personal whim of enjoying the market freely, without any pressing errands, as well as unusual anonymity. I wandered among the stalls with pretty trinkets, colourful fripperies, and all the useless stuff that attracts women, and was happy. The elf on the streets was not such an unusual sight here, and people placed business over scorn, merchants bellowing about their wares.

At midday, I ate a grand meal, and visited a jeweller – in the coming days, I would need more coin, gems being an unpractical currency. His eyes widened at the wealth before him, and glanced at me appraisingly and with suspicion. But he shrugged, dismissing whatever worried him, and offered me a decent enough deal, that I was spared the annoyance of haggling. Both of us satisfied, we parted amicably, and I went to Gaspard's stables, as obviously that was the place to get best horses in town. Imagine my surprise, when I saw Briala there, in front of a freaking stable, conversing with one of her people. I wanted to hide away, but it was too late by the time I realized, as she raised her head and saw me, jerking slightly from the shock. She dismissed her servant, before graciously striding my way, and bowing her head a bit in greeting.

"Lady Inquisitor. I wasn't aware of your presence here." I rolled my eyes, as usual a bit exasperated with the way Orleasians played with their words. But my mood was bright, so I responded playfully,

"And let's keep it like that."

Her eyebrows rose, a question written in her very posture. "My lady?"

"You didn't see me here." I shrugged, smiling. "Though, if you could arrange me a change for a decent horse, that would be helpful. I can pay."

She was amused by the deceit, and clearly weighting the benefits for her, while she motioned for some people to get me a new mount. I didn't really care either way, for even if she contacted Leliana, I would be long gone before her people got here. She waved away my coin, and bowing lightly, watched me leave.

Day 48

I reached the border with Nevarra, and now had to come to a decision about the next day's journey. I had to choose whether to cross Free Marches to the east, or go north through Nevarra. I had reasons to avoid both directions, but in the end, I decided that the route through Tevinter might be quicker, certain that at least the roads in the Imperium would be better than anywhere else.

Tonight, I practiced a bit, playing with fire – it doesn't seem to be my element, sadly, but nonetheless it was entertaining. Not that I am very surprised, fire users seemed to have been the rarest breed, the fickle element unwieldy and dangerous. But I kept it to a minimum, careful not to overtax myself again. Though the restrain was hard to exercise, my giddiness at the usage of these powers threatening to overwhelm me.

Day 49

It was very tempting to stray for a bit from Imperial Highway and try to find Measte in Nevarra. Very tempting. But I didn't know how long the search for him would take, so with a heavy heart I pushed the idea away. Next time, I'll have Leliana's people search for him, and I will visit him properly.

I crossed the Silent Plains before sunset, making my stop for the night in a town ironically named Solas. I secretly wished I could ignore it, pass it by without acknowledgement. But such childishness would have cost me a lot of lost time, so I reached for my inner maturity, and used the premises, finding a decent inn.

And an additional incentive was a sudden rain, which left me completely drenched. I have no wish to court illness while on road, so the fireplace and warm bed were clearly superior to camping in the wilderness, fuelling the small flame with soaked branches.

Day 50

Unfortunately, the stables in the vicinity proved to have less than acceptable herds, the best mounts belonging to the magister. His servants were unwilling to attract their master's wrath by parting with his prized belongings without approval, even if the prices I offered were more than a fair deal. So I had to personally visit the local aristocrat, who puffed up at my sight, overly cocky and too self-important to deal with an elf. I stifled a derisive snort at his behaviour – this far from capital, he couldn't have held much importance. And people of true power rarely stooped so low to flaunt it in the face of those below them, finding it demeaning and pointless. I would know, I tried to intimidate only useful people, like Briala, and never bothered to show off in front of peasants.

But I bore his behaviour, and found it quite amusing, knowing that had he any inkling who I truly was, he would be all flattery and pleasantness in a matter of seconds. When I showed him one of the gems from my collection, his eyes twinkled with badly concealed greed, and his tone of conversation changed, as he tried to glamour me. Still, I drove a hard bargain, just because I could, and it was fun to watch him squirm.

I left the area with a better mount than I expected, the strong horse of good lineage, who made a very good distance before the evening, and more than made up for the lengthy search in the morning.

I could have tried to go off road, and directly to my goal, I wasn't certain I wouldn't get lost in wilderness, so instead I followed the paved road to the coast. The city of Neromenian greeted me, one of the largest ports, with the exception of the capital, Minrathous. I have spent the evening playing around with local City Elf children, their parents watching the whole thing with patient indulgence.

Out of curiosity, I punctured one of the children's finger, drawing a droplet of blood, and led her through one of the most basic rituals. Imagine my shock, when the flow of the magic moved, even though the child had no powers I could discern. It was far too weak to affect anything, but it was a vague confirmation of my initial assumptions, that it was our anatomy that differentiated our magic from human one. The surprise was that apparently, even those elves without clear connection to the Fade could draw on these powers – it run counter to everything I had been taught. The issue requires further analysis.

Day 51

I stayed in the city for one more day, my goal was slightly over two days of unhurried journey away, and I was loath to separate from the magnificent mount. So I let him rest. And I had more tests I wanted to perform.

I paid a golden coin to one of the homeless, human street urchins, asking him to repeat the yesterday's practices of the elven girl. He fumbled through it a couple of times, but sparked no reaction from the magic. So the obvious conclusion is that all elves are on some level connected to the other reality, because otherwise, it makes absolutely no sense. I already knew human mages could, in fact, use these powers, though apparently to a limited extent. I would love to have someone agree to perform the experiment for me with its true form, and not the butchered way Knight Enchanters operated, but I suppose for now I had to restrain my insatiable desire to know everything. Even though I was in Tevinter, and blood magic was a common occurrence here, it wouldn't do to draw attention to myself, when I have no one to protect me. I didn't feel like I could challenge the rulers here, and I certainly wasn't sharing this particular brand of magic with them.

Day 52

I'm well over halfway to Qarinus, the last town before my goal, but I had to make a stop earlier tonight. I didn't change my mount in Carastes, my cursed sentimentality getting in the way, and the animal grew tired. I'm pushing the poor beast to the brink of his endurance, but soon he will be able to get his well-deserved rest.

Camping in the woods doesn't agree with me much, it turns out I have grown spoiled by the luxury. Even when we travelled across the wastelands, it was my soldiers that dealt with daily necessities most of the time. The Inquisitor was perceived above such mundane duties, and even when my alter ego was _merely_ a Herald, any such activities were frowned upon. And now it took me an hour to set up the tent, because I forgot how!

This time I called for water, the stream nearby providing plentiful of easily accessible element. But I felt no rush, and while it was easier to control than fire, I didn't think it was mine. Earth and wind remain, but no more for me at this time, as I cannot afford much blood loss again.

I need to think of a way to start covering the injuries somehow, my hands are getting visibly scarred. I am trying to deal only a surface wounds, but with as much riding as I do, I cannot hurt any other body parts. And these cuts will garner many raised eyebrows, at best they will think me masochistic, at worst they'll guess close to the truth.

Day 53

So here I am. The whole journey just to see the cradle of my race, the magnificent Arlathan. It was a daft, impetuous idea, but Morrigan suggested to do what I wanted. And I wished to see it with my very eyes, to feel the sleeping powers of this place. If the Temple of Mythal survived, I had no doubts that some of them here did as well.

The forest spread before me, the ancient trees that saw many centuries. It seems unspoiled by human hand, even if ages ago many great battles must have ravaged it. I breathed in the mossy smell, listened to the cries of birds, and delved into the woods. Going in horseback was pure recklessness, so I led my mount by the reins, careful with my steps. The roots were large and treacherous, creating many small crevices one's leg could get stuck in.

The sunset loomed on the darkening sky, so I had to cut my explorations short, and set up a campsite near a small spring. The clearing wasn't enough to set up a tent, but with a clear sky I doubt it will rain. I snuggled next to my horse, disregarding the smell and instead enjoying his warmth, and gazed on the stars. How long was it since I was this tranquil? No worries pressing against the back of my mind, no immediate responsibilities. The Inquisition far away, and most likely faring quite well even without my presence, with watchful Leliana, careful Josephine, and caring Cullen.

Day 54

Of course, if finding your entirely destroyed capital was an easy task, the location of it would have been long discovered. But the forest has swallowed the signs of a battle and civilization around here, and what magic remains is in tatters, leading in opposite directions without clear indication which one is correct. So I wandered aimlessly, going deeper and deeper, glad that the supplies I picked up at Qarinus will last me for days.

I left a small ward at the place where I slept, just to make sure I will be able to return by searching for my magic, should I get lost.

Travelling on foot is obviously a much slower process than riding, and the uneven terrain does not make it easier, so I set up for evening having made much less progress than I had hoped.

As I went about the menial tasks, I could feel someone's presence, and watching eyes. I have heard the place became the refuge for escaped slaves, its vastness creating opportunities to evade the pursuers. Should they wish to approach me, I would welcome them, but for now, I pretended obliviousness.

Though it was a bit harder to fall asleep, the unseen observers making me a bit twitchy.

Day 55

Well, while I was correct about being scrutinized, I mistook the identity of the interested party. I was dousing the embers remaining after an early breakfast, when a familiar figure stepped out of the woods and onto the small meadow I was residing on.

"Inquisitor. It appears that our paths cross again."

I greeted the male with a slight bow, respectful of his seniority. "Abelas. I must admit, I did not expect to run into you here."

"Likewise." The former guardian looked at me appraisingly, before adding. "Yet I find myself interested, what purpose brings you here…" he paused, glancing around in confirmation "…clearly unattended?"

I pondered a bit on the that, before realizing that there was nothing to hide, and answered truthfully, "I'm here to see the heart of the forest."

"Why?"

I shrugged uncomfortably, not entirely certain myself as to what motivated me. "I could tell you, once I get there. I need a… confirmation, first."

He turned around abruptly, before casting behind him, "Hurry up then. I'll show you the way."

And left me gaping at his back, stunned. But quickly, I finished the packing, and followed after him, leading the horse in tow.

Of course, getting to the place, even with a guide, was not such a quick matter. We settled for the night in a cave, an uncomfortable silence stretching between us. I was uncertain what to speak about, and he was clearly comfortable with quiet, so no more words were exchanged.

Day 56

And we reached it, the place ringing with old magic, sleeping, but still strong, still beating. The ancient trees, older than anything I've seen, kept alive by the soul of this place. They grew over some stone structure, encasing it behind their strong roots and branches, hiding it away from the world. But I had no doubts, this was where the city once stood, where our civilization reached its peak.

I cried out in happiness, saying, "It's still alive… After all this time, the heart is still alive." I was moved, I twirled around the place, touching the trees in admiration, elated. The joyful tears escaped my eyes, as I took in the entirety of the revelation. And then, the little thing at the back of my mind came alive as well. "We are all still alive. Even after losing everything, we preserve." A resolution formed. "It is time we remembered that."

I heard the steps of my guide behind me, and turned to face him. Abelas crossed his arms, and demanded, "I would hear your reasons, now, as it seems you found what you were seeking."

And I told him then of my new resolution, which I swore to myself in this place but a moment ago. A dear dream that grew within me these past weeks, only to be born here, in the face of the unyielding heart of the forest, prevailing.

"What makes you believe you will succeed, when so many before you failed in this endeavour?" He was watching me carefully, for some reason still very tense, awaiting my response.

I outstretched my hand in the direction of the sun above us.

"Because I will not ask for it." I suddenly made a grasping gesture towards the shining entity, closing my hand decisively. "I will take what I want, and let nothing stop me."

"You are out of your mind" he stated, expressing a mild surprise. I shrugged, unconcerned by his judgement, and far too contended to allow him to darken my mood. But then, I was truly shocked, when he dropped to his knees before me, lowering his head in deference.

"You are out of your mind, chasing such unattainable dreams" he repeated. "But I would follow you, in this endeavour, should you allow me."

"Abelas…" I was at a complete loss, words escaped me. I had not expected that, his initial reaction was the one that run according to my predictions.

"Will you let me assist you?" he raised his eyes to meet mine, with insistence in his voice. I shook my head, gathering my wits, I owed him a response.

"I would be glad to have you by my side." There was no question about that, the male was an accomplished fighter, and another person to honestly discuss my plans wouldn't go remiss. He knew of them, and was one of the few people, that I could trust would have no _reason_ to go against me. Already I could see the many troubles looming on the horizon, the need of secrecy one of the most dire ones. I didn't want to reveal my intentions too early, especially in front of Leliana, as I couldn't even begin to predict her reaction. And her influence was vast enough to hinder my moves, possibly stop me for a long time.

We set up a camp, further away from the sacred place, to not spoil it with our fire. As the moon came out, and we readied our beddings, a thought struck me.

"Abelas, I heard that once my ancestors had a life-changing revelation, they altered their name to reflect it. Was that true?"

He looked at me, the shadows cast on his face, keeping his eyes in the darkness. "Yes" he answered guardedly.

"Then, do you know how the little birds that only sing before the storm comes are called?"

"We refer to them as Zirael" the male already suspected where this was all leading, but answered without uncertainty, his voice firm. I smiled, admiring the unfamiliar word.

"Zirael. I like that."

_Bird of change. _


	19. The Bird's Flight Arc Part One

Author's Notes:

Inspired by:

1. Wind Queen – Two Steps From Hell

2. Ghost of a rose – Blackmore's Night

**The Bird's Flight Arc Part One - Preliminary Arrangements**

As they both woke up with sunrise and started clearing out the camp, Zirael decided there was an issue that bugged her, and addressed the male.

"Will the remaining guardians be all right? You are their leader…" _we can't predict how long my plans will take, but at least – years. _

He shrugged neutrally, responding, "I have discussed it with them already. They are quite capable of taking care of themselves."

Her eyes widened in surprise, and she stopped rolling the sleeping bag. "When did you do that?"

He smirked a bit at her, "Yesterday morning, when my lady was still asleep." A light jab at her obliviousness, but she took in stride, without batting an eyelash.

_But you didn't know then, that you would leave,_ she thought with secret admiration, returning to her task at hand. She refrained from asking for more, recognizing that she could find it out later.

They finished swiftly, and proceeded to the east, slowly moving through the forest. She struck another conversation, as another thing perked up her interest.

"Why did you agree to take me to _that place_?"

He cast a glance over his arm at her, moving away some of the branches that blocked their path.

"You destroyed that _thing_, which invaded the Temple" he stated, and she nodded, though the sentence was rhetorical. "I owed you a debt for that."

And maybe it was that simple, no other strings attached. Some treated their obligations seriously, after all. And while she wasn't certain he owed her anything, as she was saving herself and the world, and not doing anyone any favours, who was she do dictate his opinions? _I should curb my limitless arrogance._

The thick woods didn't make the journey any easier than before, but still before the skies turned red they saw the trees thinning, as they came close to the edge of the forest. They stayed for the night, as travelling in the darkness was singularly foolhardy.

They stopped by the city of Brynnlaw, replenishing supplies and getting a mount for Abelas. The male stated that his halla was uncomfortable out of the forest, and he didn't want to needlessly stress the animal. And they continued the journey south, through the colourful Antiva, celebrating the Satinalia with grandiose splendour. Masked people dancing on the streets of small villages they crossed, children throwing a colourful paper confetti and hand-made, artificial flowers. This was a country of long-standing peace and relative prosperity, almost unmarked by the rifts, or the war.

Just because she could, she joined the dancers one warm evening, not in much of a hurry to return to her usual, dreary duties. The male elf made arrangements with the innkeeper, before going after her to the town square. She was mildly awed when he extended his hand towards her, but accepted it easily enough and they fell into the uncomplicated rhythm of the melody. He was a decent enough partner, so she lost herself to the sensation, unconsciously playing with the strands of power around her while following his lead. By the time they finished, she was flushed and grinning wildly, blood loudly pumping in her veins. Abelas also had a small smile on his face, as he courtly held the door for her, letting her into their rooms.

The next day, in spite of her sore muscles, they hit the road early. She was aware that prolonging her absence incessantly would make straightening matters out last longer, and so she hurried their mounts, reaching the border with Free Marches.

This evening, after a long break, she left the camp, and went to practice her newfound magic on a more empty area, Abelas guarding her from a safe distance. He had a disapproving frown, when she told him of her experiments, but otherwise didn't comment, clearly deciding to watch over her.

And his presence proved to be a blessing, as she found her calling that night.

The wind sang to her, an addictive melody that resounded in her very soul, when she reached out to it. She lost her awareness of the passing time, her strength seeping away from her, engrossed in the movements of the power, toying with the little gusts and stronger blows. Soon she twirled in the midst of small cyclone, completely oblivious to the droplets of blood swirling around as well, and to the worried voice calling for her to stop.

Abelas had to shake her forcefully to stop the trance, before she killed herself through the drain of her power. She collapsed weakly in his arms, her muscles gone limp for a moment. However as soon as her dizziness passed, she pulled away.

"I'm sorry." She whispered apologetically. "I didn't think it would be that… _much._"

"Clearly you haven't been _thinking _at all" the elf spat with disgust. "You will not endanger yourself in such irresponsible manner again!" Abelas stated commandingly, managing to shout without raising his voice, a cold anger shining through eyes.

"I will try" Zirael agreed meekly, and they returned to camp, his strong presence hovering protectively over her, ready to step in should her legs falter. They spoke little else that evening, him still furious, her both shaken and ashamed.

The next day she was far from her best, but wished to get to Kirkwall as fast as possible, so despite the meaningful glares the male sent her, she jumped on her horse. Pretending to be okay was quite an ordeal in itself, and she had a vague suspicion she had not fooled Abelas with her forced, lively behaviour. The male was obviously still annoyed with her earlier recklessness, so the hours passed quietly between the two of them, until they reached the city walls.

The town was much improved from the last time she saw it, years ago. With Templars gone, the fear in atmosphere lifted, and people appeared much more spirited. The streets bustled with movement, in spite of late hour, though the stalls were already closing. But the reconstruction works only just begun, so most of the buildings were still damaged, the enraged mages protecting their lives without care about involving innocents in the fight. They made their way to Lowtown tavern, the Hanged Man, where she expected to find Varric. When both of them entered the place, they were surprised to find it overrun with people, all tables full. Zirael came to the bar, and enquired about the dwarf, casting curious glances around. She knew that Varric was well-off, so this place was below his standing, but there was a certain charm to it, and most likely it provided a great cover for his under the counter deals.

The bartender answered her that currently, master Tethras had a business meeting, but it should be soon finished, and did she want something to drink while waiting? She took him up on the offer, and carried back glasses of wine to Abelas, who managed to secure them some places in the meantime. They shared the alcohol, and soon, down the stairs leading to the second floor, walked a familiar, short figure, exchanging goodbyes and well-wishes with another dwarf. After his guest left, Varric came directly to their table.

"Inquisitor, aren't you supposed to be missing?" he greeted her with a knowing smirk. "Leliana sent searching parties far and wide." He gestured for them to follow, and led both of them upstairs, ordering a refill for their drinks along the way.

He had a large suite with something resembling a small conference room all to himself, and the female elf took one of the comfortable, worn armchairs with a sigh of pleasure. Abelas glanced around uncertainly, before following in her suit, in a more dignified manner.

"Did her people come here as well?" inquired Zirael with interest.

Varric shook his head in denial. "Her agents were seen sniffing around in many places, and it wasn't hard to pick up on their intent" he grinned with a self-satisfaction at figuring out the motives of secretive spymaster. "But it appears she didn't think you would visit any of us."

"I must admit, annoying her was a welcome side benefit of my little trip" admitted Zirael, answering with a grin of her own. Varric looked at her thoughtfully, before abandoning the topic, wisely realizing that he would find out more, if she wished.

Instead, he inquired, while sending a side long glance to an elf, "Your companion does seems familiar, but, truth to be told, you have me at a loss."

"Where are my manners? Varric, this is Abelas, you might remember him from the incident in Temple of Mythal." She had an apologetic expression on her face, while introducing them to one another. The elf inclined his head regally, dwarf returned the greeting with a friendly nod.

"What can I help you with, then, my Inquisitor?" Varric went straight to the heart of an issue.

"Couldn't it be simply a friendly visit to an old acquaintance?"

"Inquisitor." He had a patient look on his face. "I am a businessmen. Occasionally, I shoot people. And nothing on my résumé indicates that I am stupid. So please, spare me that crap."

The male elf stifled a chuckle, and she sent him a warning glance. Abelas spread his hands innocently, before picking up his glass, admiring the red liquor inside.

She turned back to face the dwarf, and puffed up her cheeks in pout. "You are no fun."

He shrugged dismissively, "I can be plenty of fun, once I know rules of the game." And glared at her meaningfully, asking for clarification. She pondered on the enquiry for a while, weighting the benefits of her response.

"Oh, very well then." And she explained the general outline of her plan to the dwarf, deciding that he would prove more helpful once he knew what it was all about. Varric whistled appreciatively at the end of her story.

"You don't aim low, do you?"

She laughed. "Now where would be fun in that?"

"And what is my role in the play?" Varric seemed much more composed, now that no obvious disaster was on the horizon.

"You have your people in many places." She stated, taking a sip to ease her dry throat, and groaning with slight irritation when the drink run out.

He batted his lashes innocently. "The speculations about my presumed spy network are largely overstated. False accusations, all of them."

"And I don't believe a word you said" she cut sharply, and softening her words with a little smile. "I need information, Varric, if my schemes are to take any form close to reality."

He considered her for a while, before stating, "Information you do not want to receive from Leliana."

"I am _here_, am I not?" Zirael replied acidly, taking a bottle from the table and refilling her empty glass.

"Crystal clear. Though I think you are underestimating her." His tone was carefully neutral, as he moved his glass to be also replenished. She obliged, answering his suggestion with,

"I am unwilling to make a bet on that."

"As you wish." He sighed, shaking his head. "Far it be from me to try dictating your actions." She raised her eyebrows ironically, recalling the many incidents when he attempted precisely that. He raised his drink in ironical toast, recognizing the hypocrisy of his words.

"So, can I count on your help?" She was a bit impatient to get a clear answer from him.

"Did you doubt that?"

"_Without_ involving dear, inquisitive sister?" Zirael pressed further.

"You are such a slave driver." He lamented, inciting her to roll her eyes at his melodramatics. "_Yes_, I will keep it from her."

She relaxed, saying with soft honesty, "Thank you, Varric."

"It's nothing." The dwarf seemed strangely ill at ease with her gratitude, and joked to lighten the mood, "But I get the dibs on first contracts, once you are successful."

She grinned, replaying half seriously, "Of course. I wouldn't dream of depriving you of that."

The dwarf laughed, and changed the topic, glancing at the thus far quiet male elf. "Does your elf ever speak, by the way?"

Abelas was roused from his musings, and responded to the jab, "The elf did not wish to interrupt a business conversation."

Varric didn't appear at all disgruntled by the cutting tone of the elf, letting it slide without any reaction. It appeared he was long used to such behaviour, as he invited them, "Well, fancy a game of Wicked Grace, now that the boring stuff is out of the way?" She looked at Abelas helplessly, uncertain of his wishes, but the male had a competitive gleam in his eyes.

"You have to teach me the rules, dwarf. But you are on."

They overslept the next morning, but fortunately, Varric had arranged for them to board a fast ship that had them in Jader by the evening. The vessel she travelled years ago couldn't compare to it, the clumsy and slow cargo ship took days to travel this distance. But this was clearly a former, or maybe not so former, pirate vessel which needed its swiftness to avoid the border guards and competition on the sea, so the journey was swift. Just like her seasickness, which overcame her mere moments after they departed from the city.

Abelas had attended to her without complaint for the entire day, as she emptied her stomach of everything it held, and some things it _didn't._ When they finally got ashore, she was positively green, and miserable. He smiled kindly at her beaten up sight, and that was a sign of his forgiveness at her past foolishness.

He told her of his past that evening, a story of how he became guardian.

"The guardians were chosen once every hundred years, in the grand tourney." He recalled, unseeing eyes looking up, at the ceiling of their suite. "It was a great honour, and a great challenge. Everyone who came was allowed to attend, and while more than just a winner joined the ranks, only the winner" he smiled, "got his wish fulfilled in exchange for a vow of servitude."

"Did you win?" she asked, taking a gulp of water, still pale on her face.

"What do you think?" Abelas teased playfully.

She scoffed at that. "Of course you did."

"So I did." There was a wistful reminiscence in his voice. The wood in the fireplace cracked, the log falling apart, and he stood up to fuel the fire. "I was born to the lower caste of Arlathan citizens, had no magic. There was not much future ahead of me – I had no patience to be an artisan, and tender's life did not attract me."

"Tender's?" Zirael questioned, engrossed in his tale.

"Farmers, gardeners, cleaners – all those without magical talent to be more, but not enough skill to be creative. Necessary, and stable, yet boring and unpleasant." He explained briefly. "I always wanted to be someone else."

"And how did you wind up a leader of the guardians?"

"Ranger." At her perplexed look, he elaborated, "The leader of the Temple Guardian's was called Ranger."

"But you are no archer!" she jerked in surprise, and then groaned, as another wave of nausea came to her.

"I'll have you know, I'm quite proficient with a bow." There was an obvious offence in his tone, as he scowled. _My, aren't we touchy._

"I meant no insult, it's just that…" she scrambled in a fit of panic, trying to find the right words, "With your mastery of a warhammer, I wouldn't expect you to search for an alternative."

He visibly relaxed, letting go of the strain in his shoulders. "I was hunting in my youth, helping to feed my family." He explained, appeased by her compliments. "And the title was a sign of respect for the first leader – who was, as you might have surmised, primarily an archer."

She laughed, and he joined her, a lower chuckle accompanying her merry mood. And she felt suddenly grateful, the dizziness forgotten, and spirits lifted thanks to his tale.

The next day, as the sun was setting, they have finally reached Skyhold. They had to weave their way through a huge crowd, swarming the gates of the stronghold. By the time they finally crossed the gathering, she was cursing vehemently under her nose, annoyed by the carelessness of some peasants. They clearly lost their minds, so engrossed in their purpose, whatever that was, they lost their self-preservation instincts in their entirety. They didn't seem to care about being nearly run over by horses, and then it would be _her_ fault, and the consequences to deal with. _Fen'Harell curse them all._

The news of her return spread fast – by the time they returned the horses to the stables, a redhead spymaster awaited them, her arms crossed, and eyes shooting thunders at passers-by. _Uh oh, trouble ahead. Let's try diverting the enemy's attention._ So she dealt a first strike,

"Leliana, who are these people?"

"My Inquisitor." The human's tone was decidedly chilly, freezing almost. "These people are all claiming to have seen you, recently, in just about any place you could possibly imagine."

Zirael felt her eyebrows rising in surprise, even as she nodded politely to Josephine, who joined them at the courtyard. "Do they. And why are they here?"

"After our dear leader _hared off_ somewhere, without much _explanation_," the words were punctuated with acid, and Zirael winced at each one guiltily, "a certain worried advisor" a venomous glare sent to the lady ambassador, who blushed in shame, "though it would be a marvellous idea to post a promise of reward for bringing back reliable information about you."

"Really, Josie…?" Zirael also looked at the woman, exasperation in her voice. "How could you ever believe it a _fruitful endeavour_?"

The noble flinched at the sarcasm, blurting out, "But we were so very _worried._ And there was no news whatsoever from our scouts, so I thought, maybe another source…"

"And you didn't think to consult it with me beforehand, and simply went ahead with it." Leliana was not quite ready to let the ambassador off so easily, obviously the hordes of claimants have been grating on her nerves. Zirael smiled sympathetically, before realizing her mistake at garnering the woman's focus, as her sharp gaze turned to her.

"Speaking of _fruitful endeavours,_ would my Inquistor be so kind to explain this _stunt_?"

Actually, she had no plan whatsoever what to say, so she mumbled nervously, "You know, places to see, people to meet…" That, for some reason, didn't seem to appease the spymaster, whose glare only gained in vehemence. "Oh, and I would like you to meet a new addition to the family" she perked up at the sight of newest arrival, and a possible diversion, "please, allow me to introduce, Abelas, formerly of the guardians of Temple of Mythal."

The elf appeared like a knight in shining armour, saving her from a thorough interrogation, followed by a no less thorough tongue lashing. He gained an unsympathetic scrutiny of Leliana, who visibly grit her teeth, holding back the rest of her comments. Zirael caught a second wind, quickly taking control of the situation, "Josephine, if you could be so kind to arrange a guest quarters for him."

"My lady, that much trouble is wholly unnecessary, I'll be quite satisfied bunking in soldier's barracks." Interjected firmly male elf. This brought his suspicious glances from both humans, not only the way he addressed her, but also his compliance.

"That is entirely inappropriate. You are one of my closest associates, and as such, deserve proper recognition." She stood firm in her decision, for more than one reason, and he backed off gracefully.

"As my lady wishes." He allowed himself to be led away by Josephine, excited by the newest, exotic arrival, and glad to be away from Leliana's wrath.

"Well, what else transpired in my absence? I mean, besides the plague of kind informants…" she did her best to sound the most commanding, and Leliana snapped back into her advisory role.

"Inquisitor, the news from…"

And she patiently listened to the steady stream of words from the spies, feeling an overwhelming relief. _Disaster, for the moment averted. And nothing new on the horizon._

_What an unexpected strike of luck. _


	20. The Bird's Flight Arc Part Two

Author's Notes:

Inspired by:

Desert Rose - Sting

**The Bird's Flight Arc Part Two – Learning to Fly**

Months started flying by, as Zirael gathered more and more information for her pet project. Avoiding Leliana's attention was quite a challenge, and so as she travelled to meet with Varric's sources, just as many of her trips were simply diversions. She took great pains to establish a safe post for herself, and at least the messages she sent were not read beforehand by the spymaster – and if she couldn't guarantee the same about those that returned, at least she made sure there wasn't anything implicating in them.

On her many journeys, the male elf always accompanied her, a guard and advisor, and naturally they grew close. She stopped being reserved, and slowly related her life story to him, certain there would be no unbearable pity. Instead, he spoke of his childhood, lived in the shadows of the powerful in Arlathan, as a sign of his respect, and understanding. The only thing she withheld was her painful love experience, and he also shared none of his own.

After her return, she picked up writing with Morrigan, and was once more gratified with her many delightful little stories that provided unique insight in the workings of the world. Until at the end of one of the missives, a question appeared, which had her burning in shame.

_By the way, I picked up on the interesting gossip along my way. It appears that the Inquisitor has found herself a new suitor, an elegant elf of unknown origin. Would you care to elaborate on that?_

It took her quite some time to get over her mortification, and sternly deny these claims in her next letter.

Though it had one positive effect – it appeared that finally, after all these years, Cullen got a clue that he would never enter her sphere of interest, and found himself a sweetheart among the diplomats, a sweet natured Ferelden girl with a typical for them passion for dogs. Zirael was glad for him, and sent his lady some of the jewels she had purposelessly lying about, a gesture of her approval. The male faced some teasing from the other two human advisors, before the female elf put it to a stop, pointing out that those without lovers ought to focus on finding one, instead of expressing their jealousy at other's happiness in such petty manner. That shut both of them up, Leliana mumbling something about a vow of chastity, Josephine going slightly pink on her face.

The learning process required delving more into human politics and history, as she tried to discern how to sway those powerful to her side. _Not asking, but taking_ she said to Abelas, and she meant it – but it also required an in-depth knowledge, which she had to find. It also brought about some painful musings about her race's fate, and one evening she asked the other elf,

"How come the original magic of our people was abandoned? It is such a powerful tool…"

He kept quiet for a while, thinking about the answer. "These are my speculations…" he made an obvious provision, "as clearly, I am not a mage, and not well versed in those matters."

She nodded impatiently, disregarding that, and waiting to hear his opinion.

"I assume it was simply impractical, on the run."

"But _why?_ I mean, even elves without any power can affect the flow of the magic, following the right steps, so…" She recalled her experiment with an elven child, which she told him about previously.

"But those without magic have to perform with unbelievable _precision._ And even then, it would take many of them dancing at the same time, synchronized, to affect reality at all. No, only those with great connection to the Fade could perform at its peak effectiveness."

"I am no Dreamer, though" she pointed out, nonplussed.

He caught her marked hand, spreading her fingers, palm up, and traced her mark absentmindedly. "I suspect the Anchor grants you unique connection to that reality." She blushed up to her ears at his ministrations, snatching her hand away. He let go easily, observing her bashfulness with a slight amusement.

"Abelas, this sort of behaviour is what provokes rumours about the two of us…" it seemed as if the heat on her cheeks would never recede, and she glanced away, unable to look at him squarely.

He answered softly with, "They needn't stay rumours only."

Her disbelief turned into further abashment, as she comprehended his meaning. "I am… I mean, I've never thought…" Zirael fumbled clumsily through her words, decidedly avoiding his eyes. "I've never considered it" she said finally, her shoulders strained nervously.

"Ah, but that is not precisely rejection" Abelas pointed out, smiling playfully. Finally she raised her head to meet his gaze, perplexed by his reaction.

"I don't know if my opinion on the issue will ever change" Zirael admitted, remembering in a flash another male who brought this reaction out of her, and oh, was it already almost two years ago?

"My lady, courtship among immortals lasted decades, centuries even." He laughed at her uncertainty and willingness to spare him the disappointment. "I have an eternity ahead of me to change your mind" his eyes twinkled with joy, softening his features, before he grew serious once more.

"Returning to your original question, my lady – for the averagely powered magical users, human version always offered more possibilities than our ancient ways. Even at the zenith of our dominance, there were many who preferred it." _But it is so very restricted! No, I must see beyond myself – these powers appear limitless for me, but for others they might well had been chains. _

She fell quiet for a while. "But surely, those without any power would like to keep some semblance of it?"

"You forget, my lady, how weak their influence was. With the survival as a priority, hunters are more useful than ineffective spells." There was an experience speaking through his mouth, and she remembered his lowborn origin, and the problems associated with it. No doubt he was one of those not practicing these arts in favour of chasing after prey.

This time, silence lasted longer, before she summed it up heavily, abandoning the issue, "And thus, the old ways were lost."

They returned to the human politics for now, leaving the elven history aside. There was a task that needed fulfilling.

But the events of that afternoon weren't entirely forgotten, as Abelas kept his light advances. Zirael was actually quite flattered by his attention, and while she was far from accepting him, the elf had a point – they had long years ahead of them, and one couldn't predict the future. So she refrained from premature judgement, and tried to be more open minded.

Everything proceeded smoothly, their plans crystallizing slowly but surely, until an unexpected encounter, which left her shaken for weeks.

On their way back from Antiva, where they had a meeting with one of Varric's associates, they have stopped in a capital of Nevarra, coincidentally enough called Nevarra. Zirael though it spoke quite clearly of its settlers _obviously_ vast creativity in naming sense, but the city itself was magnificent, all in cold black marble with monumental crypts that were rumoured to hold true wonders of ancients. The buildings sprang high into the air, thin and seemingly fragile, with high windows and creative peaks. There was a haunting beauty to it, thought at the associations of the mirages could be quite nightmarish.

She had not forgotten about her wish to reconnect with a friend from the past, and used Leliana's connections to find out more about him. Their sources directed them to the elven part of the city, so Abelas inquired about the way to the Alienage, and they were shown the way quickly by the amiable merchants. It seemed the typical disdain towards elven origin was lesser here, people happy enough to go about their business with an easy to follow credo _live, and let live_.

The Alienage itself was far less removed from the rest of the city than any other she had seen, and the elves mingled with humans without visible conflicts. They dismounted, and Zirael asked about Measte, and which was answered with:

"The Hahren?" _Well, someone moved up in the world, _"He is with a guest, currently, but will most likely be able to attend to you soon."

She felt nostalgic, as she watched familiar redhead coming from the opposite side of the market in her direction, gracefully avoiding collisions with others. He had changed, more dignity to his countenance, but yet remained the same, an impish glint to his eyes. When he saw them more clearly, he quickened his pace, visibly overjoyed at her sight.

"Dalish!" she smiled at the nickname, as he attempted to steal a kiss from her once more. This time though she dodged him without any trouble, putting a hand over his mouth, and laughing:

"Measte, a pleasure to see you. Up to your usual tricks, I see?"

This incited a low growl from the elf next to her, barely audible. Zirael glanced at him warningly, touching his arm lightly in reassurance. _He is not a threat. Not now, nor ever._ Measte remained oblivious to their exchange, however, politely nodding to her companion, before inviting them to his home. It was the most prominent abode in the district, his new position clearly warranted him privileges above the average elves. He even had a serving girl, who swiftly brought them warm tea, as the air outside was growing chilly, with the coming winter.

The redhead elf begun the conversation, facing her with a sudden air of gravity, though still keeping a bit too close for her comfort. "I thought you gone, that with the Haven's tragedy. You must have left right before it happened, do you know of the others?"

"Something along these lines" lied Zirael with slight discomfort, Abelas glancing in her direction with question in his eyes. She just shook her head in response, not wanting to reveal the truth to Measte. "I haven't heard of anyone else making it out." Though she had laid her guilt to rest with Corypheus's death, there was still a painful edge to her voice, and they both quietened for a short while. Their attention was brought to the sudden knock on the door, and a newcomer let himself in. She peeked over Measte's head, stiffening in recognition at the familiar male taking off his coat in the corridor. Her chest exploded in pain, and she fluttered her eyelashes to drive away the sudden tears, as Solas came to stand next to Measte. _And I believed myself quite over him. Reality does have a tendency of forcefully keeping me aware of the inconvenient truths, doesn't it?_ Came a bitter thought. With an impassive mask enforced over her features, she pretended indifference, bowing lightly in his direction in greeting.

"You're acquainted, I gather?" inquired Measte with interest, glad to leave the previous topic behind.

"We've met" she summed up their three years of history, stealing another glance at the male. He appeared unaffected, if slightly more tired than usual.

"Well, Dalish, as happy as I am to see you, I somehow doubt you came all the way here just to see me." _Why do people always expect me to want something from them? _She was beginning to feel a bit offended at the tendency – first Varric, now Measte…

"Why Measte, I've just arrived, and you already wish me gone?" she feigned hurt with a teasing smile, though her nerves were still singing in awareness of Solas. The male joined them wordlessly at the table, sipping some herbal drink of his own, and she forced herself to continue nonchalantly, "Nevarra was actually en route, so we decided to stop by. Well, _I _decided" she corrected herself "and Abelas had nothing against it."

"Until now, that is" interjected male, with a clear annoyance glaring at Measte, still hovering over her shoulder. _You couldn't leave it alone, now could you? _She stifled a tired sigh at this attempt at marking a territory – namely, her. The other elf finally understood the underlining _back off _message and sighed a bit.

"Oh. Is he the one to have finally captured your heart, Dalish?" the silence rang heavily in her ears, as she desperately wished to answer "Yes". But that would have hurt him, far more than this feeble revenge at Solas was worth, so she replied stonily:

"No."

Measte looked at them in confusion, and was about to say something, when another knock interrupted them. An elderly woman entered, shaking her head in obvious confusion.

"Hahren. A messenger for some Inquisitor had arrived, and would not accept our claims that no such person came here." Zirael fought off the sudden urge to bang her head on the table. _Why now?_

But she was who she was, and assumed the authority of her position with practiced ease. "Lead them here, if you would."

She stood up from the table, and crossed her arms, tapping her feet in impatience. Soon, a human male of vague familiarity came in after the elderly elf, and at the sight of her fell to his knee, a hand over his heart in the formal salute. She ignored the bewildered stares of the woman and Measte, motioning him with a dignified gesture to stand up.

"Inquisitor. Sister Nightingale said you would be here, I've an urgent message to you from the Skyhold." _Obviously. Though now I have a new headache – just how closely does Leliana monitor my movements?_

But she had to absolve the spymaster from some of the guilt, as she herself expressed her desire to visit Nevarra around this time. She rolled her eyes in annoyance as another thought came, _and now I am busted. _

"How come all my attempts at incognito always fail spectacularly?" she addressed Abelas with resignation, which brought her a derisive snort from her companion. She sighed with regret, predicting she wouldn't like the news, and asked her underling:

"I would like the letter now. And arrange for a fresh mounts for me and Lord Abelas, if you will" The man gave her the parchment, saluted in exactly the same, over the top and formal way, and rushed to fulfil the assigned task.

She took in absentmindedly the reactions of the people in the room. Measte was shocked to the point of loss of words. Abelas had a tried patience on his face, impassably finishing his drink and gathering what little luggage they had in the meantime. Solas looked unsurprised, obviously, and a bit amused at her exasperation – she felt a sudden urge to throttle him. But other matters pressed, so Zirael opened the message impatiently, reading:

"_Another attempt at Cassandra's – Divine Victoria's life, barely foiled. Chantry demands Inquisition's protection and assistance. Also growing tension between Orlais and Ferelden, the negotiations on the verge of falling apart. Need your return as fast as possible. Leliana"_

Zirael tossed the paper in Abelas's direction, remarking ironically:

"We've been gone for two months and already whole world is falling apart."

"One would think Inquisition entirely powerless without it's magnificent leader. Imagine the commotion your permanent leave would bring" his dry response made her laugh, if a bit hysterically. _Yes, imagine that…_

"Any thoughts on solving this particular conundrum?"

"Ignore them" he answered immediately. "You need a break, and regular meals, that's why we came here, remember? You've lost so much weight, you are starting to look positively ghastly."

These past weeks they spent mostly in the saddle, travelling between the many cities in Antiva, gathering gossip and useful information, sometimes even blackmail material. Her plan was close to finished, last missing pieces slowly falling into her hands.

"Ha ha, very funny" she scowled grimly. "You know well, this will come back to bite us at the least opportune moment. And did you just imply I look far from my best?"

"You always look utterly stunning, my lady" his prompt response made her blush. "Even when you seem frail enough to blown away at the slightest gust of wind."

"_Abelas_, this is entirely inappropriate moment for flirting" she sounded scandalized, and a bit put off by the wind reference, a casual reminder of her carelessness. They picked up their coats, Abelas courtly holding the door for her in spite of hands full of their belongings, and they went out, the other two following wordlessly.

"Is it?" he put their stuff down, smiling lightly. He was getting better at feigning innocence, Zirael had to admit.

"You are the famed Inquisitor?" finally found his voice Measte, observing them closely, awed.

"My, the man isn't deaf!" clapped elven woman mockingly, annoyed by his reverence. _One of my standing just can't remain inconspicuous, right?_ "That certainly appears to be the case, doesn't it, Abelas?"

"Indeed" the man answered distractedly, looking in the other direction "and here comes our man."

Zirael sighed regretfully, reigning in her temper. "I wished our meeting to be longer, and less… agitated, but I was happy to see you, Measte." _And even more than that, I wish you never found out._ The man bowed deeply in response to her goodbyes, and she had to turn away, to hide the revulsion his behaviour brought. With the light bow in the direction of Solas, they mounted the horses and left the city of Nevarra.

Once they left the area, her mask fell apart, and silent tremors wrecked her body, and she had to slow the horse down to keep herself saddled. Abelas sent her a sidelong glance, but refrained from commenting, adjusting his tempo to ride alongside her. She was immensely grateful for his tact, as she struggled to retain control of the feelings she thought long buried. They made less mileage than they ought to have, but by the evening a semblance of her normal self reappeared, and a shadowed smile ghosted through her features, a silent _thank you_ towards her companion.

Strangely enough, even though they ended up camping in a quite densely populated area, a pained wolf's howls accompanied their sleep.

Leliana awaited them in Skyhold, impatiently sending away all of Zirael's attendants who swarmed around her in an attempt at usefulness. The female elf sighed, and praying for patience, listened to the woman's agitated tirade at the uselessness of Chantry's guards. The spymaster was really shaken by the near death experience of Cassandra's – from the reports, it was only the her training that saved her life. Zirael thought the solution obvious, and said as much:

"Why don't we simply send our own people to take care of it?" describing _it_ with an ambiguous flick of her hand, as if to encompass _whatever is necessary. _Leliana only groaned, running a hand through her hair in distress.

"The Chantry's officials are protesting the presence of unaffiliated forces in their midst…"

The elf's eyebrows rose at that. _That's plain ridiculous. They require our assistance… without us actually providing any?_

Abelas came up to them, a glasses filled with watered wine in his hands, and offered her one. She took it gleefully, washing off the dust of the road from her mouth in a few greedy mouthfuls. She gave away the goblet to one of the servants, and sent Abelas a meaningful glance, expressing her gratitude. He smiled, and joined in on the conversation.

"How about you send the soldiers on the stipulation of their presence being only a temporary solution, until the crisis is over?"

The suggestion had some merit, Leliana mused out loud, "Well, it might appease some of the self-important protesters."

"And we might send some of our trainers along, to better prepare the Chantry's security guards for the future. That ought to straighten _their_ ruffled feathers as well."

"Abelas, you are simply a fountain of ideas today" jabbed lightly Zirael, though without any ill intentions. "Ever faced this sort of crisis before?"

He smiled enigmatically, "Possibly."

"Very well. About the negotiation crisis, I will hear tomorrow." Inquisitor raised her hand, stopping Leliana's protests before they even began. "I am far too tired to think clearly. Let us adjourn it for now."

Both of them bowed in acquiescence, and dissembled, each to their own. She stood still for a while, lost in herself, before shaking it off and returning to her rooms to get some rest.

But the sleep refused to come, and in the solitude of her room she couldn't escape the painful truth – the sight of Solas evoked the feelings of loneliness in her. Those days during the journey she squandered it away, duty as usual forestalling everything else for her. But she still longed for him, the one who touched and captured her soul. For a brief moment she entertained the idea of accepting the standing offer of the other elf, but with a bit of effort, she pushed it away. It was below her, to use Abelas in such manner, a replacement for her loved one. It wouldn't be fair to him, or to her, or even to her lingering love.

After tossing restlessly about in her bed, far too large for a single person now that she thought about it, she rose and walked out on the balcony, breathing in the cold air of the night, clearing her mind. A gust of wind played with her, unusually let down, long hair, as she watched the iced mountain peaks in the distance. And then she started dancing, playing with her element, but keeping conscious, just barely above loosing herself. The awareness of the danger was just as thrilling as the wind, and she spent the next hours until sunset in careful twirls and spins, trifling with her life and power.

The light shook her out of the trance, and she became aware of the eyes watching her. She turned to face the quiet visitor, shading her eyes from the sun.

"You shouldn't do that." Said Cole, keeping calm while balancing on the railing. "It is dangerous, listening to the call of the Void."

She sighed heavily. "I know, Cole."

He kept looking at her impassively, and finally she added, with a touch of regret, "I won't do that again."

_No matter how sweetly the oblivion sounds, I have finally learned to fly. I won't squander my chance. _


	21. The Bird's Flight Arc Part Three

Inspired by:

Electric Daisy Violin – Lindsay Stirling

**The Bird's Flight Arc Part Three – Meetings**

She has kept her promise to Cole, and never again tried to seek forgetfulness in her powers. But she still practiced her magic, and bought herself gloves to hide the cuts inflicted in the course of it. Abelas pursed his lips in displeasure at the sight of it, but didn't stop her – both of them knew she would need everything in her arsenal to survive her ambitious plans.

The diplomatic incident between Orlais and Ferelden blew over without fireworks, Inquisition maintaining a firm grip over the situation. Josephine personally attended the talks to ensure everything fell in place.

And finally, they were making last arrangements for Zirael's plan. They made their way to the capital of Orlais, where she hoped to secure Briala's assistance in a delicate, but crucial matter.

Val Royeaux was a much different place than the one from Elaine's first visit, the gloom and uneasiness things of a past. The streets and market were both busy, people flowing in multiple directions, carrying on with their tasks. Their audience with the de-facto ruler of the country was to take place the next morning, so they stopped by the tavern, where the Inquisition agents already prearranged the best rooms for the two of them. Zirael smiled at the sight of them, luxurious and comfortable, fondly reminiscing their time in the countryside, under the stars and with hard ground to sleep on.

During their meal, Abelas was scanning the crowd with interest, as he had little previous experience with human cities, and usually their travels had not allowed such leisure. The dining room had an open garden side of it, which she chose on purpose, knowing the market would catch the male elf's interest. Suddenly, she felt something pushed into her pocket, and before she could turn around and catch the perpetrator, the hands on her thigh were gone, along with their owner. She checked her pocket, and found a familiar red handkerchief, along with a message. _At least it's not a riddle, this time. _It was brief plea for a meeting in a place where they initially met one another, and Zirael found herself interested, what the thieving organization might want from her.

She swallowed a bite of her meal, before wagging the cryptic message in front of him, to get Abelas' attention. "We have a place to visit tonight" she informed her companion, who raised his eyebrows in askance. "An acquaintance of mine wants… a favour, most likely. I would hear them out." _And I dearly hope I won't regret it._

He sipped a bit of wine, "doesn't everyone, these days?" And then added dryly, "do try to remember we have a hearing tomorrow, with the local ruler herself. It wouldn't do to appear… unrested."

She smiled sardonically in response. "How could I? During our first encounter I had only threatened to kill her."

"That does make for a sterling relationship. Remind me again, we are here to ask the lady for a favour?"

"Indeed" Zirael laughed, amused by the unmoved tone of his voice, he sounded as if he expected nothing less of her, questioning her sanity.

"My lady, I must say, your endless optimism never ceases to amaze me" he raised his glass in ironic salute. She smirked in response, before resuming the consummation of the delicacies on her plate.

The evening came, and they found themselves in the less savoury part of the town, a back alley cluttered with waste, only the poor having their houses around here. Zirael stopped in front of the entrance to the merchant magazine, the empty crates next to the door, and waited, tapping her feet impatiently. A few moments passed, and a familiar blond archer jumped down from one of the roofs.

"All hail the one that glows" she greeted them with a mad chuckle.

"Sera. Still unchanged, I see." Sighed Zirael with surprising fondness. Surprising mostly to herself, though the blond sent her a suspicious glance. "This is Abelas, my… friend." She gestured towards the male who was guarding the other way out of the street. "You've been well?"

"Having fun. Even after _someone_ threw me out." A whiny pout on her face. "Wait, no, I take that back. After _I _left." She made a few slithering steps, closing the distance between them.

"Let us not discuss this issue anymore, I beg you. You wished to see me?" Zirael was quick to approach the main point of their meeting. _It smells here. Did it smell the first time we were here? I suppose I wouldn't have noticed, considering we were otherwise… engaged. Literally and figuratively speaking. _

"Well yes. Yes, I did." Sera fidgeted, scratching her nose nervously. "I have a small problem. A little, _sparkly _one. Not like the mark, but like what you and Dorian and Vivienne do. Or the elf." There was a short pause, before she clarified. "The other one."

The Inquisitor gasped, shocked by the unexpected information. "You mean, you have a mage child in your organization?" Her voice rose in disbelief, "Sera, are you out of your mind? That kid, left unchecked, untaught, could destroy this whole district if it accidently summons a demon! Or burn it!" Zirael caught a struggling breath before continuing her rant. "You saw what we could do, it would have been better if you sent it to the Circle immediately! Surely you know Vivienne can be trusted?!"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up! I know! I'm not completely crazy!" the other female shouted with agitation. Abelas made a jerking move in their direction, jolting in reaction to the noise, before stopping his movement with a shake of his head and returning to his position. "I would have, I promise you, but they can't help her! I know it!"

Zirael calmed down, and allowed that _maybe,_ maybe her former companion was not entirely insane. "What do you mean?"

Sera lowered her voice, saying, "I think… I think she is like the mopey face. The elf you…"

"I know whom you mean" Zirael cut the explanation curtly. She caught an interested glance Abelas sent them, and glared warningly in return. _Back off._

The female archer shrugged indifferently, unconcerned. "Well, yes. Him. She sleeps… strangely. She talks, and it's almost as if she is _conversing."_ She shuddered, clearly uncomfortable with the topic, touching the bow on her back.

"You have a young Dreamer in your organisation?" clarified Inquisitor with astonishment, sending a bewildered look to Abelas, who just shook his head in wonder.

"I think so?" Sera seemed uncertain, but there was no way for her to be otherwise, as she was no mage. "We call her Sticky, by the way. She is a great pickpocket. Sticky fingers, so Sticky, get it?"

The humour was lost on Zirael, as was usual with Sera's jokes, and she waved her hand impatiently. "Yes, yes, let us move on."

"So can you help?"

She wiped the sudden sweat off her face with her sleeve, pinching her nose while thinking. "I make no promises, but I can try", _and I am probably the best shot the child has at surviving. I may have misjudged you, Sera. On more than one level._

"Thanks." The relief in archer's voice was palpable. "And if ever you need something…"

Zirael lifted her hand, stopping her former companion from speaking, as a sudden idea crossed her head. "Actually, there's something I could use your help with."

"Who do you want killed?" The tone was only half-joking, as the other female's eyes glinted maniacally.

The Inquistor laughed, amused by the notion, "Sera, if I wanted somebody dead, I would have done it myself, or sent Leliana's assassins. No, I would ask something different of you."

At that, Abelas abandoned his post, and came closer, interjecting, "My lady… I thought we wanted to deal with Briala." And added sharply, with a healthy dose of irritation, "What are you thinking?"

Zirael smiled playfully, answering in singsong tone, "Something I just came up with."

He shook his head, voicing his suspicions. "I don't like the look on your face. Remember that one time you had an _idea_ with the raft… You will get both of us killed."

"Oh, don't be so _morbid_." She scoffed with ridicule. "And the raft is a taboo topic, I thought we agreed on that. I am playing a small gambit, nothing more."

"Somehow I find that hard to believe."

"That's because you are a pessimist, Abelas. It just ups the stakes, a little."

He ran a hand across his bald head, sighing with resignation. "Realist, more like. And you are certain it won't place both of us in a potentially deadly situation?"

"Well." She paused thoughtfully. "I can't promise that."

He simply raised his eyebrows in sardonic response, and she had to stifle a giggle at his utter surrender, as his shoulders sagged wearily. But then Sera had enough of being marginalized, and crossing her shoulders, demanded, "No more beating around the bush, we haven't all night, Andraste's tits."

Zirael turned to her, and obliged the request. "I need a you to spread the rumour in Tevinter that Inquisitor wants something from the Archon. Badly. You can make up the rest, but I want all of the small people - servants, slaves, guards, everyone, _talking."_

"Ooh, we are _plotting._" The archer was almost glowing with glee, her eyes joyfully widened.

"We most certainly are." Smirked Zirael in response.

"That's easy." The blond made a random hand gesture, excessively nonchalant. "And we are even after that?"

"Even." The Inquisitor confirmed steadily, adding, "Tonight is far too late, we will come to pick up your _little problem _tomorrow, at midday."

"I'll see you here then." Sera waved in goodbye, taking a few steps into the darkness before disappearing as suddenly as she appeared. Zirael was too tired to bring herself to care how precisely that transpired, a weary thought ringing in her mind as they were returning to the inn. _Rogues. Only marginally better than spies._

The next day they visited the palace, a grander entity than the one in Halamshiral by far. Though Zirael wasn't certain this was a particularly good thing, as in their attempt to _outdo_ themselves, the architects had clearly _overdone_ it. There was an overabundance of sparkles and gold, the decorations almost climbing onto each other, with no prevalent style. It was far too much at once, and Zirael soon had a headache from the multitude of colours on the certainly magnificent, but clashing with one another draperies in the hall. She breathed a sigh of relief once they entered Briala's office, kept entirely in blue scheme, severely stiff and without much splendour.

"My lady Inquisitor" stood up in greeting Briala, coming out from behind of antique desk of great value. Zirael tilted her head in response, but kept quiet as a flurry of servants carried trays of refreshments into the room, setting it up on the side table. As soon as they left, she turned to the male that accompanied her,

"Abelas, I am sorry, but I would like to talk privately."

He crossed his arms defiantly, glaring at her in annoyance.

"Come _on_ now, if Briala wished me dead, your presence by my side wouldn't have deterred her." She scoffed at his overprotectiveness. Shaking his head, the male left the room, closing the doors a bit louder than usual, in expression of his irritation. Zirael glanced at Briala, raising her eyebrows expectantly, and after a short while of starring contest the female submitted, calling to her attendant,

"Leave us as well, Marco." The male seemed similarly discomposed to Abelas, but made far less fuss while following the instructions.

A moment of uncomfortable silence ensued between the two females, as Zirael pondered how to breach the topic that brought about her visit. Finally, she decided to be just as straightforward with Briala as she was years ago, knowing that in the speech games she would never outplay Orleasians. She made a few nervous steps across the room, looking out of the window to avoid the other's gaze, and said abruptly, "I had come to acquire your assistance in a delicate matter, but an alternative appeared, so for now, there's nothing specific that I require of you." Zirael took a hitched breath, bracing herself before speaking, "Still, I would like to… apologize."

She had the female at a loss of words, as a while passed before Briala swallowed and enquired, "Apologize?"

"I had misjudged you, last time." Zirael shrugged, gazing unseeingly in the distance. "You have gone above and beyond what I asked of you, regarding our brethren, never once trying to shake off our… leash."

She paused, searching through the spacious pockets of her formal coat, before pulling out several slightly rumpled parchments. She proceeded to put them on Briala's desk wordlessly, before returning to her previous position next to the window. A short hesitation and Briala joined her, also looking out at the garden.

"What are these papers?"

"A gift." Answered simply Zirael. "A gift and a token of goodwill."

"A gift." Briala repeated slowly, as if tasting the word, and glanced at the other woman without understanding.

"Most of these contain all of the information Inquisition had gathered about your network, as well as our sources of it." After a moment, Zirael rephrased her statement, "Well, all that I found. Accurate as of, approximately, two weeks ago."

The woman's gaze grew even more bewildered, but her voice remained unwavering, as she enquired, "And the remainder of it?"

"Details regarding Gaspard's illegitimate son." She paused, raising the tension. "Half-elf."_ And a way for you to gain independence of the Inquisition. _

Briala jerked, positively dumbstruck, her stone mask falling apart. Wordlessly she asked for explanation, _any_ explanation behind these irregular actions of the Inquisitor. Going directly against the organization's well-being, no less. Zirael regarded the woman silently, deciding how far to initiate Briala into her secrets, before deciding to retain most of it to herself.

"I'll be leaving the Inquisition in a few years' time" she stated with decisive finality. "Depending on how well my plans proceed, sooner. Now that I know you will continue taking care of our people here…" she smiled softly at her conversationalist, "it is time to let you run free."

Briala frowned and replied with a touch of irony, "I am grateful for the vote of confidence."

"It's not only about that." The Inquisitor turned away from her, and stretched her arms. "Now that I am letting go of the reins, I need to start limiting the Inquisition's power. Else" she grimaced self-depreciatingly "it might be turned against me, one day."

"My lady is certain of your decision?" _Leaving it behind, or freeing you? Doesn't really matter, the answer remains the same._

"Oh yes, no doubt about that." _Like never before._

They finished up the meeting exchanging meaningless pleasantries, to preserve appearances. But now that business was finished both of them were eager to return to their other duties, so they quickly went through the social necessities, before bidding each other farewell.

Zirael briefly summarized the visit to Abelas, once they left the walls of the palace behind, and made their way to the yesterday's back alley.

"You seem awfully certain everything will proceed as planned" pointed out the male sceptically, observing their surroundings with practiced ease of a well-trained warrior.

She peeked at him from behind her hair, suddenly a bit nervous. "And you aren't?"

He chuckled at that with honest mirth. "My lady, I wouldn't follow you if I didn't believe you could succeed in everything you set out to do." The smile brightened his eyes, as he continued, "even if this particular scheme doesn't work out, well, we can simply try again."

She shook her head, a few strands of her hair loosening from the knot and obscuring her view, "We haven't much time before my influence starts to wane. This is actually our best shot. _Where_ is Sera?" She changed the topic, irritated at the absence of her former companion, pushing the locks away.

The blond archer was way late, and finally they were almost leaving when the female appeared at other end of the alley, dragging a screaming and kicking child in tow. It tried to catch the edges of buildings to find some footing and stop Sera's movements, in between scratching and attempting to bite. For the first few moments Zirael was unable to discern its gender, the rags it wore, scrawniness and dirt easily attributable to both boys and girls. Then she remembered Sera's words, and indeed after a closer scrutiny the child _did_ seem more feminine, though only barely. It was of undoubtedly elven origin, which she greeted with a bit of relief, as she wasn't certain if she could bring herself to care much for Shemlen offspring. Nor if she could actually help it, as her original idea involved asking some of the Dalish clans about _their_ experiences, and the Clans would never lower themselves to assist human.

"Sorry for the wait. Little sparkly one is a hassle." Announced brusquely Sera, panting a bit from the fight.

"I can see that" replied Zirael dryly, observing the struggle with slight exasperation. The child refused to acknowledge their presence, only increasing in its efforts to get away. Finally she had enough of its obstinacy, and tugging lightly at the strands of power she called for a light paralyzing glyph, biting her lip absentmindedly to trigger it, careful not to hurt the kid, only stop her movement.

Feeling her legs refusing to cooperate, the little redhead started crying in distress, terrified. Sera heaved a sigh of relief when the child stopped trying to hurt her, and let go of her, turning to face them.

"Thanks for that. This is Sticky, and as you can see" the blond shook her head in annoyance, "she is stubborn as a mule."

"Are you quite certain she isn't yours? I see a distinct similarity of character…" Inquired innocently Zirael, delicately inclining the head in child's direction to Abelas, so that he would watch over her. She wasn't entirely certain how long this weakened glyph would last, but she was sure the male would be able to prevent the little one's escape.

"_What?_" the archer shuddered in revulsion. "That's disgusting. _Disgusting_, it would require some _male_ involvement."

"True, I have never heard of it happening otherwise" agreed Zirael in a singsong voice, hiding a teasing smile as she caught the other female glaring.

"Shut up." Demanded Sera with growing agitation. Zirael wanted to taunt her a bit longer, but the child stopped wailing and started screaming instead:

"You won't take me away! I won't go, I won't go, I am going nowhere!"

So she moved closer to the girl, bending slightly to look her in the eyes, "Sticky, was it? Pleased to meet you."

"Fuck off" growled the child aggressively. "I am not going."

"What language in such young mouth" remarked Abelas with obvious disapproval, capturing and holding her gaze for a while, a question written in his stance – _are you sure of that?_ She sighed in response, making a slight shake of her head, _of course I am not._ But then Sera lost the last of her patience with her charge, and after a few decisive steps, she slapped her hard in the face.

"You are not making any decisions here" the archer snapped coldly. The girl stared at her caretaker with obvious shock, raising her hand to touch the burning cheek, where a red mark was appearing. "Remember what happened with Toe? That was your fault. Toe might never grow his hair again, and that wasn't the worst that could happen." Sera's words were harsh, and tears formed anew in the kids eyes, this time though without hysteria, only quiet, painful ones. "You are dangerous, and cannot stay. I will not risk others for your sake."

She turned away, and spoke in parting, "you should be glad the Inquisitor was here. Otherwise you would be going to a worse place." And sending a glance in Zirael's direction, "I'm leaving the snot in your care", she began walking away.

"Sera, wait" she motioned for Abelas to look after the kid, and chased the archer, catching her sleeve and stopping her stride. "One more thing."

The blond turned to face her impatiently, crossing her arms in deference. "I thought we were even."

"And we are" reassured her Zirael. "I only wanted to say… If you ever need something, just send a word."

Disbelief formed on Sera's face, as she regarded the other female with mistrust. "Why?"

Zirael shrugged helplessly, too much and at the same time too little to explain. "Because."

The blond stared at her searchingly, before a shy smile crossed her features, and she nodded. And with a wave of her hand, she disappeared in the shadows in a rogue-like fashion, in the dark alleys of the Val Royeaux.

_Because I have gravely misjudged, and underestimated you. Because you cared enough about the kid to overcome your pride and ask for help. And because finally, after all those years, I have grown to like you. A bit._


	22. The Bird's Flight Arc Part Four

Author's Notes:

I would like to extend my heartfelt gratitude to Elystaa for her support.

Inspired by:

1. MKAliez – Aldnoah Zero Ost

2. Ar Tonelico III - EXEC_COSMOFLIPS (no, I haven't played the game, I just like the music)

**The Bird's Flight Arc Part Four – Taking Flight**

Once Sera left, Zirael returned to the child quietly sobbing on the ground. The glyph had long expired, but the girl didn't make any attempts to bolt, seemingly resigned to her fate. Abelas sent her a desperate glance, clearly unaccustomed to dealing with children, and now that they had to take care of her, letting her remain like that wasn't good. With a bit of exasperation she came up to her, and picked up the frail youngling, far too light for her age, and made her way back to the inn. She didn't fight, numb in her arms, and Zirael was grateful for that small mercy, as she was quite certain her reflexes wouldn't allow her to catch the escapee if the girl tried.

It was clear they wouldn't be able to set out today, as hour grew late, so she settled for practicality, and drew a warm bath for the child, sending Abelas for some meal and extension of their stay. Letting the girl keep her quiet, she led her to the bathroom and allowed the relaxing oils she poured in to do their work. They had to change the water midway, as the kid was so dirty she was unable to clean her during the first try. The rags Sticky once wore stunk, and Zirael was glad to rid of them, Abelas once more playing an errand boy, this time arranging the visit from a seamstress. By the evening, the child was provided for, and prepared for the next day's journey as much as these few hours allowed.

Then she addressed girl, "Would you like to eat?" She nodded mutely, and soon a feast appeared before her. She tried to restrain herself, but soon hunger and greed took over, as it was most likely first time in her life that she faced such abundance of delicacies. Once the meal was finished, she started yawning, and Zirael, hiding a fond smile, showed her to the bed, allowing the child to take over her own room. Then she turned to face the questions of the male.

"What are you planning to do with her?"

"For now, she goes with us. Later I am planning to find clan Therin on our way to Tevinter, and strike a bargain with them concerning the child. They are said to be quite tolerant of strangers." She sighed heavily, casting a glance towards the closed door. "One of us needs to keep constant watch over her, right now she is very vulnerable to demon influence, a danger both to herself and us."

Uncertainty coloured his voice, as Abelas said, "You seem worried. Are you afraid we cannot subdue the girl barely in her teens?"

Zirael sighed again. "It's not that. Well, _primarily _not that." She ran a hand over her damp hair, noting that she ought to wash them before their tomorrow's departure. "We can deal with her easily enough – but I doubt the child would live, once we have to reach for such desperate measures." She closed her eyes to chase away this grim possibility. "I am concerned about her abilities. I can teach her the control over typical magic just fine… but dreaming is beyond me."

Her gaze was clouded as she turned to face him. "So it is safe to say that I am worried. More like anxious, actually."

Abelas reached out to her, caressing her cheek in delicate reassurance. "You will think of something" said the male with unwavering certainty. She leaned in to his touch, desperately needing the support offered, before she remembered herself and moved away. She caught a flash of hurt that crossed his face, and bit her lips viciously, a drop of blood trailing down from their corner. Once again she was using his feelings without being able to offer anything in return, and she berated herself for the moment of weakness. But any apology would be demeaning, so she reined herself in and said with forced cheer,

"I usually do."

They left it at that, Abelas taking first watch over the child's sleep, and she took his rooms, her eyes closing soon after she laid under the soft covers. On the edge of her consciousness a trace of his smell lingered, a vague reminder of the forest breeze, and as she was falling asleep, a new thought appeared. _I wish I could accept him already, in good conscience._

They left Val Royeaux then next day, the child saddled in front of Zirael. Obviously, Sticky never rode before, with her street background, and so they had to accommodate for her. She remained quiet throughout the day, even though it couldn't have been easy for a novice to travel for most of the day. Still they had to slow down their journey considerably, both because of the horses and the girl, and the evening found them camping in the woods, and not in a comfortable tavern like they did usually.

As Abelas was setting up the tents, and Zirael sent a spark of power across the gathered wood to ignite flames, the girl spoke her very first words since the previous day.

"I am never going to return, am I?"

Zirael stilled, staring searchingly at the small figure scrunched next to the just awakened fire.

"Possibly" she allowed, lying seemed counterproductive in earning the child's trust. "At least for couple of years, no, you won't."

The girl looked as if she shrunk into herself, and started playing with a few half-wilted red flowers - the seasons were changing, and their time was past. The woman exhaled slowly, and begun a new topic, hoping to draw the child in, and out of her defensive shell.

"Did you know, according to the oldest tradition of our people, once something ground-breaking in your life happens, you would change your name correspondingly?"

That merited a suspicious look from the child, her brow creased in obvious doubt.

"I did, not that long ago."

The child run her tongue over her dry lips, before asking, "What happened?"

Zirael smiled wistfully, sending a glance to the male, "I made a promise to change the world."

The pause stretched. "I never liked the name Sticky." Suddenly said girl, as the woman almost lost hope for continued conversation. "What are these called?" She picked one of the wild flowers she was toying with.

Zirael shrugged helplessly, and turned to the male. "Abelas?"

He came swiftly over, abandoning his previous task of setting up their bedding.

"These are Ceres, the Sundown's Glory" he identified them easily, glancing at the woman in askance. "You told me you have been taught about the flora in your time with the Clan?"

She grimaced depreciatingly. "Only herbs, occasionally some other plants if they had any healing properties. Flowers may look pretty, but they rarely have any practical use."

"Pretty but no practical use…" the girl repeated her words slowly. "I want to be Ceres."

"And so you shall" agreed Zirael, sending a meaningful glare to the male, who quickly murmured his approval as well.

The slowed down tempo of the journey allowed for more conversation, and as they rode side by side, they bantered jokingly, enjoying the latitude, Ceres occasionally joining in with her shy questions and remarks. The child grew bolder with each passing hour, and adults exchanged pleased smiles over her head, glad that they stopped being abductors in her eyes.

But it also had a detriment, as for the very first time they were ambushed. Typically they galloped so fast, bandits' traps had no means to close around them, but this time they seemed like an easy prey, a couple with a child. Even the weapons on their backs and in plain sight didn't deter the group, as they merely adjusted their usual means with more care.

Zirael had to strongly jerk the reins, as the horse panicked at the sudden figure jumping down in front of them, stopping their tracks. She ignored the standard "Coin or your lives" of the man in front of her, in favour of sending a questioning glance towards Abelas. He made a sweeping motion of his hand, indicating the number of assailants – less than ten of them, it seemed. _You poor bastards. _They jumped from their mounts, as if to oblige the bandit's threat, and with a few wordless gestures, they took up arms to defend themselves.

It was a quick slaughter, the robbers not only not expecting resistance, but never before having to face a battle hardened mage. She summoned lightning, dealing with the well-positioned archers decisively, while Abelas repelled the physical attacks of the remainder of the group with deadly grace. Soon only a few strugglers remained, crawling on the ground to get away from death. Them, and the forgotten first bandit, who after the initial strike hid away, observing the battle with widened eyes.

Zirael saw him trying to sneak away, and turned to face him, but her spell fell apart as she saw him jump to the little girl who watched the events unfold frozen in shock. Soon he had a knife on her throat, and they were in a stalemate, him unable to run, her unable to kill. But then an idea came to her, and she put away the staff, careful not to make any sudden movements that would result in Ceres being hurt. The man, certain of his success, didn't see the small cut she made on her arm as she was lowering the weapon to the ground, and neither did he see the graceful twirl of her body, calling for the wind. By the time he realized something was wrong, he was long dead, a sharp blast of wind cutting his throat in a splutter of blood.

Ceres remained surprisingly calm throughout the whole ordeal, making Zirael remember her unfortunate upbringing. It was likely the child saw a lot of death on the rough streets of the outlaws, where strength ruled.

"You are powerful, aren't you?" a quick glance sent towards the bodies incinerated by the lightning.

Zirael fastened her staff on her back once more, before replying noncommittally, "Quite."

"Can you teach me to control it like you do?" Ceres' eyes sparkled with naked longing at the thought. The woman laughed lightly, jumping back on the mount, but it was Abelas that answered her,

"Why do you think we agreed to take you on?"

But the learning had to be postponed till evening, when they set up their camp, away from the carnage. Zirael proceeded with showing the youngling the basics every mage ought to know, starting with the most important – knowing how to differentiate one's power and emotion, to never accidentally cause harm. She also showed her some meditative techniques and warned of the demons, "Basically, little flower, if you are offered a deal, reject it. True spirits never deal, they give."

She tried to underline the importance of never falling prey to temptation, but by the end she wasn't certain she reached the girl. Even the grotesque abominations, didn't seem to frighten the stubborn child, and Zirael became afraid Ceres would one day have to find out in the most painful way, why one never gained by listening to demons' duplicity.

But there was naught that could be done, so she resolved to simply watch over her, and come to her aid once the time came, and they finished the lessons for the night.

The following evening found them in Skyhold, where Josephine almost squealed with glee at the sight of Inquisitor's new charge. Ceres was soon assigned quarters in the immediate vicinity of Zirael's rooms, got herself a maid and many new clothes, she hardly saw that much in her entire life.

They settled into easy routine for the next few months, Zirael teaching the child in the mornings and evenings, while awaiting news regarding the seeds of subterfuge she had sown. First sign of the initial success came with a letter from Dorian, a lengthy message detailing his exploits in Tevinter these past years. He had secured himself a seat in Magisterium, taking over his father's place, and became a magister in the truest sense of the word.

_Considering how widespread the rumours of your presumed deal with the Archon are, I have no doubts you had a hand in them. It shook the senate quite strongly, and speculations are growing wilder with each day. I sure hope you know what you are playing with, many are thinking on preventing the meeting (which, by the way, I would love to know more about) from happening at all. They are scared what sort of influence the involvement of Inquisition in Tevinter's affairs will bring. Others, and I count myself among them, are quite interested how it will play out. I would hate for you to disappoint me, and please, do promise me a seat in a first row. _

She laughed with mirth at the paragraph, and thought fondly, _ Deprive you of the well-deserved fun? Dorian, I wouldn't be that cruel. I might even allow you to take part yourself! You ought to praise my generosity to heavens, dear friend. _She had no doubts she would need his assistance at some point, if only to confirm her own ideas. He was, after all, native, and when dealing with Tevinters, who better to ask but a Tevinter?

She also found out more about clan Therin, and sent Leliana's agents to make contact with the Keeper. Soon she was granted the attention of the Clan's leader, at her convenience, with only a few favours that her people assisted with.

Ceres had all of Skyhold entwined around her little finger, maids and soldiers alike adoring the redhead spitfire. They easily forgot her roots or magical talent when faced with big, azure eyes, widened in plea for a sweet or explanation. She poked her small nose all around the fortress, watched over Cullen's drills, played with Leliana's birds, and allowed Josephine to dress her up like a live doll. Zirael let that happen with indulgent smile, happy to see the bright smile replacing the sadness on child's face. Only Abelas and her could rein in the spoilt behaviour of Ceres, at times going out of bounds, but they rarely endeavoured to do so.

And then arrived a message which finally pushed Zirael from the months of inaction straight into a flurry of movement. Josephine came, holding a missive in her two fingers with clear distaste, before throwing it onto her desk. Zirael raised her head from paperwork, and tilted it in silent enquiry.

"From Archon Lucius. It seems the _great ruler_ got himself captured by the Venatori, who demand the Inquisitor to meet up with them and discuss the conditions of release." Josephine was fuming from indignation. Zirael hid a satisfied smile. _Finally. I was growing afraid..._ On the outside, she kept her calm, announcing,

"We will accept their demands."

Josephine jerked in protest, a puppy like whine leaving her mouth, "But, Inquisitor…"

Cold crept into her voice at having her authority questioned. "Do I need to repeat myself?" She stared squarely at the diplomat, steel in her gaze. "Send the message, Josephine."

Immediately brought to heel, the lady bowed in acquiescence, and left her office. Zirael took a deep breath, waiting a heartbeat when the diplomat's steps grew quiet, before she allowed her a triumphant laugh. _No more waiting._

She had them ready to leave before midday was past, Ceres pouting at the sudden announcement, Abelas on the other hand quite eager to leave Skyhold. He was bored these past months with nothing much to do, as they waited for news from Imperium. Zirael was glad for more than simply the progress of her own plans – she still hadn't done anything for Ceres to learn about her special powers. They would have had to travel in a few months' time either way, to seek help with that, so just as well the news reached them at this particular moment.

And then they set out amidst teary goodbyes exchanged with the little girl and the Inquisition's advisors, as Zirael informed the three of them the youngling was not returning. They had quite a journey ahead of themselves, and time pressed, so she cut the wailing short with a few stern words, and they were off.

In a few days they made it to Nevarra, where on the Silent Plains near Hasmal clan Therin dwelled. They were one of the more settled clans, not migrating ones like Lavellan, and they were able to establish relatively friendly relationships with humans. But this was Nevarra, the most tolerant of the Shemlen countries, where dead were honoured, and Dalish clinging to ancient history wasn't perceived as offensive. They had little time to spare, but nonetheless, Zirael decided to spend the evening with the Keeper, to ensure the care for Ceres was properly established.

"Will you attend this year's Clans' Meet?" she asked the elderly male. Keeper Ilris frowned, before answering,

"Most likely. This year it was settled on the Fields of Ghislain, so there's not a lot of distance to cover. Why do you ask?"

"I would like you to bring Ceres along. I am hoping to address the Keepers, and find her a teacher for her special abilities" she glanced at the girl, who was already establishing new friendships among the Clan's children. Zirael felt a surge of relief as she observed that, as she was thus far uncertain whether her charge would find a place for herself in this new situation. _I can rest easy._

"There's that" agreed the Keeper with quiet fervour. And then she heard a snap of a branch in the forest under someone's careless feet, just as the male said, "We have another venerable guest with us, currently, allow me to introduce you, Inquisitor."

She turned to face the arrival, and said coldly, while attempting to control her shock,

"No need."

_That's fucking impossible. _


	23. The Bird's Flight Arc Part Five

Inspiration:

Colors of Love – Thomas Bergersen

**The Bird's Flight Arc Part Five – The Hunt**

_Well, that's peachy. As if I needed more reminders that life is not fucking fair._

Zirael kept her temper, placidly watching Solas emerge from the forest. They exchanged stiff nods, before she excused herself under some far-fetched excuse, walking away in a hurried steps. She literally felt the burning look of the Keeper making a hole in her back, but she couldn't care less what he thought.

Yet, as the time passed, an idea hounded her, a solution to one of her problems. A sleepless night under the stars didn't make it seem any less plausible. So she braced herself, and once morning came, approached Solas tentatively,

"A moment, if you will?" unwittingly quoting his words from many years ago. He was obviously surprised, as she took great lengths to avoid him past evening, but followed her without comment. They left the compound, and found a secluded spot in the forest clearing, where she took a deep breath before facing him.

"Ceres is a Dreamer. Untaught one, a danger to herself and those around her." Understanding crossed his features, followed by a frown.

"Isn't there anyone among Dalish you could ask? That was your original plan, I presume. Meeting me here is a coincidence that needn't affect it."

"Tell me then, is there someone with experience or knowledge comparable to yours? Point me to that person, and I will gladly leave the issue" his prolonged silence was a clear answer. She tilted her head to the side, no more words necessary to establish her point.

His gaze was sorrowful, as he shook his head. "I can't. I'm sorry."

"I beg you. If… if what we shared held any meaning for you… If you ever loved me…" She knew it was a low blow, and felt her heart constricting at using it against him. She still loved him, and degrading her own feelings in such manner left a bitter taste in her mouth. Nonetheless, she continued, mindful of Ceres more than herself, swallowing few unruly tears, "Just this one favour. I won't ask for much, just enough for her to survive. Please…" _I love her. And I couldn't bear to watch her torn apart by her own abilities._

Solas jerked at her words as if she had slapped him. He turned away with clenched fists, and hope surged within her at his reaction.

"Very well." In spite of the coldness in his voice, she rejoiced quietly at his consent.

They returned back to the camp, and she stopped on the small elevation in the middle of it, searching for Ceres with her gaze. _There she is._ The girl was admiring Clan's halla, with Abelas at her side, patiently overlooking her activities. The sight coaxed a warm smile from Zirael, _just look at them, almost like a family. _But then guilt arose within her, as she cast uneasy glance at Solas. Technically, she hasn't done anything to be ashamed of, and yet, inexplicably, she was remorseful.

She shook off these feelings, and schooling her expression back to neutrality, called for the child to join her. Ceres was regretful to leave the animals, but dutifully listened, sending a curious look at the male by her side. Solas remained aloof, a mask of impassivity on his features, as she explained the situation to the child.

"This is Solas, he will teach you in my place." Her voice turned stern, as she added, "He deserves your utmost respect and obedience, as for my sake he agreed to put off his other duties."

"I got it" grumbled the girl impatiently, eager to return back to her play. Abelas joined them, and Zirael could almost taste the waves of displeasure he oozed. But she needed to focus on the child for now, imprint the gravity of the issue in the young mind.

"Ceres!"

"Fine, I will be good." The child exhaled with an overdramatic exasperation at the adult's stubbornness. Zirael smiled approvingly, ruffling Ceres' hair fondly, before looking at Solas.

"I will leave her in your care." And with a slight hesitation, "And thank you."

"There's nothing to thank me for, yet." Replied male tartly, seizing up his new responsibility with slight annoyance.

They were leaving soon after, their supplies replenished and sacks fastened to the saddles. Ceres came to say her goodbyes, but right before they left, she pulled Zirael aside.

"Have I done something wrong? Abelas is scowling…" she sent a cautious glance to her other caretaker with an apparent worry. Zirael sighed, before reassuring the upset child,

"It's not about you, honey. Don't worry about it." _It's my fault. _

Keeping up with Abelas was hard that day, as he hurried his mount on the road. Even as they stopped for the night, it was clear he was still irritated. Zirael abandoned the notion of playing at obliviousness, and told him softly,

"You have no reasons to be angry. Our relationship is a thing of the past."

The male glowered. "If only that was the truth."

"It is" the confusion clearly was painted all over her face.

"And yet the feelings linger. Neither you nor, I would wager, him, had forgotten. I could see it clearly, back in Nevarra, and now." He turned away from her, resent in his voice.

She felt her shoulder sag at the undeniable truth. "I cannot help it." She whispered guiltily. "I am _trying_, Abelas... I am getting over it."

"Are you?"

There was nothing more she could say that would appease him, so she left the issue at that ambiguous statement, sending a helpless glance at the male. The remainder of their journey into Tevinter was spent in silence, only clipped sentences traded between the two of them.

The town of Carastes was one she hadn't seen, having passed by it on her route to Qarinus. It wasn't a port town like Neromenian, its citizens made their living from attending the Magisters, who in large numbers flocked here off-season. It was, in a way, grander than capital itself, for only villas and grand estates painted the area, the poor living as servants. No slums here, nor even peasant huts spoiled the magnificent vista. The security was lax, as most of the plots and schemes took place in Minrathous, and here the rulers came to rest. It was little wonder that Venatori succeeded in their stunt, their sheer audacity to pull it off shocking the temporary residents. Of course, their considerable spy network and connections weren't entirely without merit. But Zirael also suspected a political motive, underneath the simple revenge the cult wanted to enact upon her.

They purposely made a stop a few miles out of town, the day before, to ensure they were well rested for whatever awaited them. She stumbled on uneven ground, jumping down from her mount, and the male steadied her on her feet with a firm grip on her elbow.

"Can I assume that I am forgiven, then?" she asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes flirtingly. He scoffed, pretending to be irritated, but she caught onto his lips tugging in unwitting smile. Zirael grinned happily, a weight lifted from her shoulders, and went ahead with the final, small preparations before the crucial confrontation.

The situation was as bad as it first sounded a bit over week ago, the Imperial forces surrounding the residence with an iron clad grip, yet unable to act in fear of their master's life. Her arrival caused them quite a relief, the captain debriefing the Inquisitor in a few sentences – they came, abducted, and demanded nothing but the Inquisitor until now. They wanted her to come in defenceless and negotiate. Surprisingly, amidst the people gathered by the spectacle, there was Dorian. His raised eyebrows communicated to her very clearly – _you didn't think I would miss it?_ She smiled and nodded her greetings, before focusing on the issue at hand - _Let's tackle the beast by its horns, then._

The gates of the estate looked very much like she would expect a rest house of the Imperium's ruler to look like, intimidating in a strangely subtle way. She couldn't tell which part of the seemingly fragile walls made her uneasy, but she felt chills while approaching it.

On her knocking, a voice from the inside announced, "We will speak with Inquisitor, and Inquisitor only."

Her dread was chased away by the irritation, as she raised her tone, "And who do you think I am?" The gate was opened a bit, and a mistrustful peek was sent at her. "I want to confirm first that the Archon is alive, and I am not risking my life for a corpse."

It appeared that her sight satisfied the doubtful, as a another person commanded in a decisive voice. "Let him speak then." The entrance was pushed further open, and she saw a dark skinned male with a knife next to his throat, mysteriously retaining some of the unfathomable dignity of those born to their privilege.

"Inquisitor. A pleasure to see you, in spite of the… unfavourable circumstances."

She was certain this was, in fact, the ruler of the Imperium, but still she sent a confirming glance to Dorian, who nodded decisively. "Archon Lucius." _I rather suspect my sight is a pleasure, considering what was the alternative for you._ "May I request a favour, once all this unpleasantness is done and over with?"

"If we make it out alive, you may request anything you wish for, my lady, and it will be granted, if its within my power to do so." Well, that was as far as she would get, even if she had her doubts towards the man's sincerity after the danger was past. _Doesn't matter. It's not like I count on gratitude to get what I want. Not asking, taking. That remains true now more so than ever before. Though, technically, I will need to bargain, at least at first. _

"I am satisfied as to the Archon's well-being, and will proceed with fulfilling my end of a bargain. Allow me a moment to disarm myself."_ And now the crucial part – if I get myself killed, it will all come to nothing._

She moved away from the gate, proceeding to do what she told, when a frantic Dorian accosted her.

"They won't accept anything from you, the negotiations were a ruse to get you here. They are fanatics, and wish to avenge their master, even if they know they can't make it out alive once they do so." _Nothing I wasn't previously aware of, but thank you for the confirmation._

She looked at him dispassionately, "Dorian, I thought you liked the Archon, and were actually quite devoted to his faction."

"As much as anyone is devoted to anything in Minrathus, yes, I was. But that's beside the point, this is _Tevinter_ problem, and I owe you the truth." His passionate stare burned into her, as he added, "They will kill you, Inquisitor!"

Zirael allowed herself a predatory grin. "Let them try."

She dismissed Dorian then, and called up on her trusted guardian, who came up to her with a slight frown, judging the situation with a trained accuracy. She pulled a small sheet of paper from her inside pocket, and gave it to him.

"Abelas, I would like for you to hold on to something for me."

He had a puzzled expression. "What is it?"

"The reason why I have to risk my life now…" He took a look inside the folded scrap, his face immediately turning serious, as she exhaled and continued, "And why you have to let me, and stay here."

There were no protests, as he slowly nodded with understanding, hiding the parchment safely away. She proceeded to take off her gloves, and after a deep breath, she cut the insides of her palms with a knife, before quickly putting the gloves back on.

"I need you to act at moment's notice, and charge in once the Archon is safe." She said offhandedly, clenching her fists to stop the premature blood flow.

"How will I know? Anything could happen beyond these gates, and we won't know anything."

"You will know, I suspect. I trust you."

She took in one more, shaky breath.

"Let's dance."

As she was unhurriedly walking to the slightly opened entrance, she made a swaying motions of her body and hands, pulling the power to her side, a wind slowly raising around her. It had been a while since she last called for her element, mindful of her promise with Cole and the allure it carried, but these were special circumstances. Half-hearted measures just weren't going to cut it, she was well aware.

Zirael was allowed in, as the gusts grew stronger, and an unruly droplet of blood painted the ground under her feet with red. Her motions grew more restrained as she was let in, and she guardedly observed her surroundings, finding without surprise the many bows trained at her. There were also swords' pointy edges aiming at her, but she kept calm, as she faced the Venatori leader in the middle of the courtyard. They still kept their distance, afraid, and that was all she needed.

"I think you can let the Archon go, now, as you have achieved your goal" she said flippantly, sending a cautious glance towards the abducted, who was merely a bit malnourished.

The leader's voice rose in mockery. "Why ever would we do that? He is our free pass out of here, after all. The Tevinters couldn't care less what happens to the Inquisitor, after all."

"And here I thought for a second to let you all live if you just backed out" She mused thoughtfully, suddenly erupting in motion. The wind around her blazed, rising the specks of dust all over the place, blinding all of the assailants, while she jumped towards the Archon. She took care not to break the pattern, and the wind only grew stronger, surrounding both of them in a protective cocoon. But she couldn't keep it up at this strength for long, in spite of the arrows flying by, so with a strong blast she tore apart the gates leading inside. That incited the forces outside to react with a triumphant roar, as they stormed the place.

She found herself weakening under the assaults of archers, pushing away the missiles with the wind while gliding away from the swords. The necessity to protect the Archon was just as daunting, and she wondered, _how in the gods did the man prove his magical potential, other than by fighting? He was a great party host?_ Zirael stifled a groan as a sword injured her side when she pushed him away from his demise. She welcomed Dorian and Abelas with a honest relief, immediately ceding the responsibility for the ruler to his subject. Abelas sent her worried glance, but she waved him away, and they assisted the Imperial soldiers in brutal clearing out of the place. It left her completely drained and panting, and yet, she had to upkeep her positive first impression on the ruler of the Imperium, or her plans could crumble.

Once only the corpses of the Venatori remained, she took a moment to marvel at the situation, looking at the body of the leader. _I cannot believe you people expected me to come like a sheep ready for slaughter. Then again, nothing could have prepared you for Inquisitor, out of all people, reaching to blood magic. Particularly, this brand of it. _

But there was no time for savouring the triumph, as she faced the slightly worse for the wear, but mostly unharmed Archon. He was brushing down his robes with apparent distaste, and she could see from the faces of the people surrounding them they had received a generous dressing down for their failure in preserving his safety. An absence of the friendly captain had an ominous ring to it, but Zirael decided not to dwell on issues she couldn't affect.

"Well, Inquisitor, that was quite an ordeal." _And that will serve as an entire description of your weekly imprisonment, I suspect._

But there were pretentions to be kept, so she replied neutrally, "I completely agree, my lord Archon."

He appeared lost for a few seconds, and a bit embarrassed. "Well, as my saviour, it would be my utmost delight to accommodate you in my estate, but as you can see, it remains… uninhabitable for the moment."

She nodded with an understanding written on her features, sending a meaningful glare to Dorian, who gathered back his wits. It didn't escape the ruler's attention, a shrewd look in his eyes, and Zirael felt chills running down her spine. _A dangerous, dangerous man to trifle with._

"My Archon, Inquisitor, it would be my honour if you allowed me to host you in my humble abode… Until the renovations are finished, please feel at home at the Pavus estate."

"Shall we, my Lord?" She beckoned at the coach awaiting the ruler.

"Very well. Lead the way, Magister Pavus." He agreed regally, managing to look imposing even in his state of dishevel.

However, the events of the past few days appeared to have exhausted the Archon, who collapsed onto bed immediately upon their arrival. It left them with an evening to themselves, so Abelas dressed her wounds with a fierce concentration furrowing his brow, and she withstood his ministrations with practiced patience. Later she gladly shared a glass of excellent vintage with Dorian in the patio surrounded with potted greenery. The wind brought a sea breeze which cleaned the heat from the atmosphere, and she gladly tasted the slightly salty air.

"You used blood magic, didn't you?"

She froze at the accusation. "What makes you think that was the case?" She kept her voice noncommittal, while praying, _Please, Dorian, do not make me kill you just to keep it hidden._

But his interest appeared purely academic, not judgemental, "There's no other explanation for what happened there. And yet there was no demon presence at all… How's that possible?"

She allowed herself to relax slightly, and replied quizzically, "Well, Dorian, maybe there are some things you simply cannot imagine."

"Could I learn it as well? The non-demonic blood magic?" His eyes twinkled at the prospect of it, and she was reluctant to dissipate his hopes.

"To a certain degree… Yes. My level of mastery would be beyond you." She paused, searching for appropriate comparison. "A child walking blind, imitating those that can see, let us phrase it like that."

"That's a shame." He was put off by her words, pouting at the revelation.

_I don't think so._ "You will keep it to yourself, won't you?" she asked carefully, observing him with suspense.

"Of course" he snorted as if the question was ludicrous. She felt the last of her tension fleeing, and let herself relax in the presence of long missed friend.

The next day she had to face the irate Archon, demanding explanations. He invited the two of them into the guest hall, obviously already comfortable, everyone bowing to his whims. Then again, the very lives of the Magisters belonged theoretically to him, so maybe that much was not unexpected.

He begun the conversation with a dismissive flick of his hand, as if to underline his words, "Do not think me oblivious, I am well aware this situation was at least partially due to your guiding _influence. _I do not take kindly to being… pressured."

"My lord believes me controlling the Venatori actions?" The disbelief crept into her voice, barely short of ridicule.

"Controlling… no." he paused, before adding, "Perhaps manipulating… to a certain degree. Do you deny it?"

"Why would I dispute the truth?"

His eyebrows rose at the easy agreement, as he indicated for her to continue. She obligingly elaborated on her statement,

"I wanted to gain my lord's attention, and ridding of the Venatori was sort of… two birds with one stone, so to speak. Surely my lord knows, without a Magister's support, their actions wouldn't have garnered that much success." _Like, none at all. But let's pretend it wasn't mostly due to your failure at controlling your subjects. _

He pursed his lips in displeasure at the reminder of his own weakness. "I am well aware of the opposition towards my rule. Very well, you wished for my attention, and so you have it. What is the favour you wanted of me?"

_So he hadn't forgotten, nor dismissed my initial words. A dangerous man, indeed._

She beckoned for Abelas to come up to them, and extended her hand expectantly, on which the male placed the parchment she entrusted him with. She proceeded to pass it to Archon's hands, who with a frown opened it, and his eyes widened at the brief message there.

"Even _if_ I was inclined to grant this… Surely you are aware it is not within my power to do so."

"Yet." She supplied succinctly, and he made a double take at her.

"Ah." He glanced at the missive once more, before tossing it into the fireplace. "You have my curiosity, Inquisitor. Shall we discuss further the details of this… arrangement?"

"Why, that was the very reason I came here, my Lord." She barely kept herself from smirking triumphantly, satisfaction at the success nearly blindsiding.

On the scrap of paper shrinking in the flames, a single world was written, the ink gaining a blood red hue from the heat.

_Arlathan_


	24. The Bird's Flight Arc Part Six

Dandelion – Ivan Torrent

**The Bird's Flight Arc Part Six – Sorrow**

The next two weeks were hectic, full of negotiations and establishing future moves with the Archon. Her wounds made themselves known in the least opportune moments, sometimes her hands kept shaking from pain, but she remained smiling while clenching her fists. Soon there were marks from her nails inside her palms, as she refrained from showing weakness to the Tevinters.

Abelas excused himself once Zirael and Lucius were entirely engrossed, deciding to visit the Rangers, as they were nearby. Zirael just waved him off, Dorian being much more helpful in that period than the warrior. Once her former companion understood the gist of the situation, he lent her his complete support, to her astonishment. She delicately pointed out that in the long run, her plans were weakening the Imperium, and didn't that make his actions _disloyal_? Dorian smiled and said he considered it making amends to the elves for the past transgressions of his people, and she shouldn't try taking care of everyone's clean conscience. Didn't she _need_ his help?

She did, and as the plans were formed, she came to appreciate his in-depth knowledge of the workings of Tevinter senate. As well as his willingness to share it, as Archon had the same information, or even more extensive, only kept them to himself. Soon the course of the action was established, and they parted with a promise to keep in touch, Zirael invited to Minrathus as soon as her other obligations allowed it.

And then Abelas returned, and they were off to the Plains of Ghislain, where a Clans Meet was. On the way, she related to him what was decided between her and Lucius.

"Why didn't you insist on full independency? We will be no different than one of the provinces of the Imperium!" he was disgruntled by her words.

She pushed her fringe away, correcting him lightly, "Protectorate is the word you are looking for, not province."

"That's hardly better."

Zirael disagreed quickly, "Oh, it is a vast difference. It was actually the best choice." She let go of the reins, and started counting on her fingers, "Firstly, that was as far as Archon could be pushed. This way, he is not diminishing his territory, instead he is turning a useless province into a source of tribute, while we get a right to govern ourselves, establish our own laws, taxes and military." She paused, before adding with mockery, "And he gets to play the good guy, a benevolent ruler helping elves find their place in the harsh world." Another finger was raised, underlining her next point. "Secondly, did you believe for a second a creation of a new elven kingdom would be without echo? Especially since we are planning on returning to the old faith, and not following the Maker? Without Imperium's protection, we would soon become second Dales, overrun by armies of fanatics. Cassandra's wishes would prevent it for a while, but even she wouldn't be able to stand up to the congregation of all higher clergy." She took a breath, continuing, "The Imperium's armies will keep the threat at bay, and Archon himself will perceive such movement as a slight towards his dignity and personal promise." Third finger flew in the air, "And finally, and most importantly, this is not a permanent arrangement, even if Archon believes it to be so. Once we had time to grow, gather our people back and prepare defences, we will establish our independence. Remember, we have all the time in the world, while humans count their days. I suspect Archon's heir will provide us with this opportunity, but that is long in the future. For now, we have to focus on ensuring it all goes according to the plan." She smiled encouragingly to him at the end of her explanation, awaiting his comments. He pondered on her words for a while, before saying, "I bow to your superior ability to envision our future, and apologize for questioning the decision." And he added in self-reflection "I have grown too impatient for results to see that deep ahead, it seems."

She shrugged, accepting the apologies, but reminding him, "I need you to question my motives. This way we can both judge their correctness." And she laughed lightly, "Elgar'nan save me from ever growing so overconfident to believe myself all-knowing."

He joined in on her mirth, as their journey southward continued in a companionable atmosphere.

The Clan's had begun gathering a few days before, but there were still many that had yet to arrive, which relieved Zirael a bit, as she wasn't keen on meeting Lavellan. She knew she would run into them sometime, but for now she was glad to enjoy her time with Ceres, knowing she would have to part with the child for the next few years. Therin were of course first to arrive, having being the closest to the site, and of course took the best place to camp, shaded by the plot of trees.

Unusually there was no actual forest, the Meet in the relatively open area near the Minanter river, here barely more than an overgrown stream. It didn't resemble the magnificent force it turned into closer to the sea, lazily shaping the land, still shallow and easily crossable. The area provided plenty of space for everyone to settle in, and Zirael gladly picked a spot further away from the center of the meeting, a more quiet and secluded one. Then both of them went rode in search of Ceres, electing to do it on horseback rather than walk around for a long time.

They found her practicing some basic spells, Solas overlooking the activities with a stern expression on his face. At their sight the girl immediately abandoned her task, and run to them with a happiness on her face. Zirael jumped of the horse, and crunched, spreading her arms welcomingly. She had to stifle a painful grunt when the small body collided with hers at a full speed the little legs allowed her. She felt a trickle of blood falling from the barely closed cut on her side, but she kept smiling, if a bit stiffly, not to alert the child. The long journey did no favours to her injuries, and now Ceres opened one of them again with her obliviousness, but Zirael wasn't about to scold her for that.

When the girl moved on to greet Abelas, the woman made her way to Solas observing the situation impassively.

"Thank you for taking care of her" she said softly, avoiding looking him in the eyes. The male nodded, wordlessly accepting her gratitude. She was about to say something when her legs faltered, as she lost her footing on the uneven ground. He caught her by the arm before she fell, and suddenly, his eyes widened.

"Why are you walking around?! You are burning up!"

Zirael snatched away her hand, blushing a bit. "Am I?" she was honestly surprised, she pushed the heat she felt down on the weather. But now that she thought about it, she might have been more dizzy than usual, and weaker.

"Is this a result of those theatrics that were taking place in Tevinter?" he pursed his lips in clear disapproval.

"You heard about that _already_?" She sat down on the grass, losing the uneven battle with her body.

"What were you _thinking_? That was completely irresponsible…"

They hadn't realize Abelas joined them, until he interrupted aggressively,

"How dare you judge her?" outrage in his voice. "Irresponsible? My lady spent _years_ planning this very outcome, a breaking point when the plans begun springing into life. You have _no idea_ how carefully every step had been thought out, she had even planted a spy among the Venatori, whispering the sweet dreams of revenge into their leader's ear. And then… Afterwards, she had to be lively and active, because the slightest weakness in Archon's eyes could make him balk away from his promises. It is no wonder her wounds are acting up." He inhaled, taking a break in his rant, which Zirael used to cut in,

"Abelas, while I am grateful for your vigorous jump in my defence, might I remind you two that I am in fact wounded, and require assistance? That was what brought up the debate in the first place, right?" Her tone was purposely light, but the glare she sent the two of them - not so much. They had the good sense to look a bit ashamed, her guardian especially.

"Of course, my lady. I apologize for my thoughtlessness" Abelas momentarily turned to her, and scooped her up in his arms, as if she weighted nothing. She tried to flail a bit in protest, but at a sharp pang of pain radiating from her side she stopped, letting herself be carried back to the camp. She peeked over his arm and saw a stony expression on Solas face, as he turned to answer the questions of distressed Ceres.

The next days she spent in a sweet leisure, recovering from the ordeal. The wound stopped festering under the herbal compresses, and along with that improvement, the fever dropping as well. She spoke to the Keeper Ilris, arranging Ceres' stay with the Therin in the coming years, as Solas proclaimed her learned enough to survive without his further tutelage. Nonetheless, he kept at the lessons, and Zirael didn't question his motives, afraid that pushing the issue would drive him away.

The girl herself thrived among her peers, her sociability paving a way for her acceptance in a way Zirael never was. Sometimes, the Inquisitor felt a bit jealous of the easy going nature of her charge, which allowed her such easy adjustment to the changing circumstances. But these unbecoming thoughts were chased away with the sight of child's smile, and she stove her bitterness away, rejoicing at her happiness. In spite of the many distractions, Ceres spent quite a lot of time with her guardians, aware of the fact that they would part ways in a few months' time.

Zirael would have liked to take care of her personally, but she knew her affairs in Tevinter would take up all of her time for the next couple of years, making it impossible. And bringing the child along was asking for trouble, both an additional responsibility, and a possible leverage for her enemies. So she removed Ceres from the line of fire, promising the girl that once the situation settled, they would return for her.

And then, a disaster struck, regressing all the progress Zirael made towards recovery.

The day wasn't particularly different than any other, the sun finally coming out from behind the clouds after a couple of days of heavy rain. Ceres left early, her and other children deciding to go downstream and use the warmth enjoy the water in an innocent fun. Here the river was too stony, while in other spots pleasant sand covered the ground, much better for the playing around. Zirael herself gladly slept in, spending the morning deep in slumber, her body needing the rest. Later, she and Abelas made it towards the encampment to try and gain some of the few books on lore that the Dalish had in their possession. She wanted to compare them with those found in the Temple, and cross reference them with Abelas' knowledge.

That was when a panicked messenger arrived, and the terrifying news spread like wildfire.

"The river has risen! There was a natural dam upstream, and it broke, and now all that water is coming…"

Zirael froze in the middle of her negotiations with a merchant, a panicked shout escaping her lips, "Mythal, Ceres!" She turned on her heels, and quickly went toward the as of yet, calm river.

Abelas found her at the other side of the camp. "My lady, what are you planning?"

She shrugged "I'm going to stop it, what else?" And she turned to one of the scouts, whom she was explaining the situation, before Abelas interfered. "You, ride downstream, and get the children to safety."

The man saluted at the commanding voice, and replied, "Right away, Inquisitor." Even away from Skyhold, her words held sway, she recognized with grim satisfaction.

Her advisor was far from satisfied with her response, however, and pointed out, "Water is not your element, you cannot possibly hope to control it in your current state!"

"Then I won't be calling on water, will I?" She dismissed his words nonchalantly.

"You can't do this, it's going to kill you!" A clear desperation coloured his voice.

"Maybe not." Their argument was starting to gather quite a lot of spectator, most of them without understanding what it was about. She skimmed over them in irritation, _if you have a time to gawk, then fucking help!_

"You are willing to stake your life on a _chance_, when there's no certainty the children are even endangered? They could have left already!" She simply raised her chin stubbornly, crossing her arms in disagreement. The male, however, was unrelenting in his argumentation.

"_Zirael!_ I hold Ceres just as dear as you do, but I beg you, do not endanger your life on her behalf! Think of our plans, think of the _bigger picture_!"

Her voice rose in distress, "It is _Ceres_, Abelas!"

The male sighed, "I know. But you _can't_, even had you been in top condition, it would have been risky. Now it's… It's suicidal." She stood rooted in place, biting her lips indecisively, as valuable seconds ticked away. She was aware of her weakness, and not entirely reckless, searching for alternative solution.

Solas approached them then, and saved her from uneasy thoughts with his soft words, "I may be able to offer my assistance."

She glanced at him in disbelief, "Do you even know…" But then she realized whom she was talking to. "That's a stupid question, of course you do. Come _on_, we have no time!"

They rushed towards the river, where other mages were already trying to freeze the water in order to stop its flow, and hopefully prevent the flooding. In spite of their best efforts, the water level kept rising, and the low rumble from away signalled the mass of water that was yet to come, a deadly wave threatening to sweep the kids downstream along.

Zirael disregarded the onlookers, and without second thought opened the arm on her side again. It would have broken under the strain either way, so she saved herself additional blood loss, though her shirt was ruined from the cut. She raised her hands and immediately started dancing, calling on her beloved element with all her might. As she was weaving elaborate patterns, she felt the power shifting slightly, when another presence joined in. Solas followed the steps in a different manner, but they soon started complementing each other's steps, and the temperature around them dropped in response. She felt the chill seeping into her body, but she kept gathering the cold air, freezing and slowing the mass of water that was trying to pass them by. The other mages were also invigorated by their assistance, and reached to their reserves of mana, casting the spells enthusiastically.

However, soon they weakened, and one after another started dropping out, their reserves exhausted. The brunt of the river's anger shifted towards them, and Zirael trembled under its heaviness. The crushing pull, the strength and will to break out from their control started overwhelming her, and she bit her lips in concentration, as she begun making mistakes, losing the strands of power. Solas made up for her missteps, but as they grew more frequent, she begun faltering, overwhelmed by the nature. Their spell came close to being unravelled, until suddenly she felt a hand on her thigh, and another on her back, supporting her. She stiffened, but a quiet voice whispered right to her ear,

"Remember Halamshiral? Relax, and follow my lead." Zirael was far too exhausted to protest, and she pressed herself against Solas, allowing him to take control of most of the power. Soon he was the one mainly supporting the magic, as most of her strength left her, and in the back of her mind a nagging question formed. They slowly, yet steadily recreated their dance, freezing the river near them, as the temperature dropped rapidly. In her final moments of coherency she gathered her thoughts enough to ask with true wonder,

"What _are_ you, my Dreamer?"

She saw his enigmatic smile, as the darkness claimed her.

To say that Abelas was displeased after the events was a vast understatement, though he still took care of her diligently. The exhaustion of the majority of her power, a large blood loss and opening her wound again took their toll, and she remained unconscious for a few days. Later they found that while Ceres herself would have been fine, they had saved a couple of Therin children. Keeper Ilris couldn't be more grateful, and she gained a devoted advocate among the Clan leaders, which could prove useful in the future. It was a nice side benefit, though she would have preferred it came at a lesser cost.

She was visited by some of the clan heads during her reconvalescenting, the ice of awkwardness broken. Keeper Ilris mediated many of these meetings, and Zirael soon had the ears of the most powerful Clans attending this year's Meet. She suspected that Lavellan's absence might have helped, as there was no Frissalia to undermine her influence.

Ceres was so worried, it was hard to chase her away from Zirael's bedside. While the woman was touched by the concern, it was hardly in the child's best interest, so she tried to send her away and establish some other friendships, besides those with little Therins. But the child was unrelenting, and instead it brought back the gossip from the camp.

"Abelas is thought to be scary, yet devastatingly handsome" she reported one time. Zirael raised her eyebrows in silent question, and the girl giggled bashfully. "I overheard the females chattering."

"Now, my little flower, eavesdropping is a bad habit" she scolded her with a light smile. But Ceres didn't listen, and the next day she was back with new rumours. The woman patiently withstood the relations about the scandalous relationships, smiled bitterly on the news pertaining to the children out of wedlock, and the little squabbles between the clans. This merchant slandered another one's wares, and did she know about the feast in the middle of the Meet? They were preparing it right now, it was supposed to take place in but a week!

"Abelas doesn't like the teacher" Ceres reported one day, a thoughtful frown on her brow. Teacher, of course, was her way of referring to Solas. "Do you know why, Mamae?" She had taken to calling her that, and no matter how often Zirael tried correcting her, the child inadvertently returned to that form.

"Because of me" she replied honestly, bracing herself for another question regarding the issue. But surprisingly, the child left it at that, and she exhaled with palpable relief.

And finally her period of being bedridden was past, and she could start moving about more freely. She begun taking walks to rebuild some of her muscles, impaired by the long periods of immobility. Just in time for the feast, honouring the Elgar'nan's blessing, one of the old customs upheld by the Dalish, who didn't celebrate Satinalia, nor any other Shemlen holy carnival.

There was no set time for the beginning of the feast, nor the great opening speech, people coming in pairs, threes or larger groups and joining the musicians who had already begun their repertoire. Zirael came flanked by Ceres and Abelas, he little girl separating from them quickly and joining her friends. The woman kept the polite small talk with the encountered Keeper Ilris, until she caught the sight of Solas on the other side of the clearing. The women kept flocking around him, fighting for his attention, but he ignored them, and kept gazing directly in her eyes.

Deliberately, she broke the contact, and extended her hand towards Abelas. The male was surprised at first, then a bit concerned about her health, but she waved his concerns away impatiently. Finally convinced, with a slight smile, he bowed to her, and led her among the other dancers. As she submitted into his embrace, a fleeting thought came to her, _Soon, I'll be able to put my Dreamer behind. Soon…_

The evening finished for her faster than for others. When her wound started tingling, she escaped the crowd, and made her way to the camp. She started the small fire near their tents, and mindlessly started throwing small branches to the fire. Enchanted, she observed the flames rising and falling, a form of natural dance, so much that she didn't realize the male joined her, until a familiar hand covered hers. She didn't react then, but when a male bent down to kiss her palm, she snatched it away, blushing.

"Abelas…! I thought we agreed not to rush it…" She blurted out, embarrassed.

He scowled, annoyed. "After all that happened, and it's still merely _rushing it._"

Zirael felt a tinge of uneasiness, he was far too serious, far too… distressed. "What's wrong?" She asked with genuine concern. The male looked away from her.

"I feel like I'm running out of time."

"What are you talking about?" now she was annoyed by his apparent lack of trust. "I told you, _I'm working_ on it."

"It's not you I'm worried about." He admitted quietly, still unable to meet her eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing, it's… nothing."


	25. Interlude Four

**Interlude Four – Letters**

Inquisitor!

Fortunately, nothing major happened during the past two months. The guards we have assigned to divine Victoria are fulfilling their tasks admirably, juggling both the escort duty and teaching their future replacements, to the grand clerics' immense satisfaction.

There were some minor disputes on the Circle – Templar line, but the order remains otherwise weak, having lost most of its influence and reputation. The rebuilding of their strength is a task for years to come, so for now, mages can enforce their opinion, as long as we don't step in. Thus far, we didn't. Josephine advocates the negotiating resolution of the conflict – of course – I am more inclined towards dealing with the discontented more definitely. Since Cullen removed himself from the issue, claiming his former Templar association impact on his impartiality, we are at an impasse. Do relay your decision via courier, if you will, unless you are planning on returning in the coming week.

I have also lost contact with some of my sources in the Briala's network – you wouldn't happen to know anything about that? I'll proceed to replace these lost moles when the opportunity to do so arises. For now, we are blind when it comes to her intentions.

I'm sending the letters that arrived for you in your absence. The one from the witch came almost immediately after your departure, but, curiously enough, Dorian's was delivered but a day ago. I was under the impression that you two have met – what purpose would he have in sending a message when he could simply talk? I find myself both baffled, and curious.

We are awaiting your return,

Leliana

PS. How does Ceres fare? Josephine told me to ask.

Dear Inquisitor!

I apologise for the subterfuge of the letter, but there was something of great importance that I had to inform you of, but never had the occasion to do – even in the walls of my own estate, it wasn't certain who listened. Do not trust the Archon. While the deal seems hammered, and I find it beneficial for both sides, he agreed far too easily. I suspect duplicity, or at least, a scheme.

My personal speculation relates to his insistence on your appearance in Minrathous for the Satinalia. Did you know, his heir's wife had passed away after miscarriage? That was, presumably, a heavy blow for the royal family, and leaves young Cassius childless… But also, free to enter another, profitable union. Among nobility, rumours spread that perhaps the woman's passing was not quite… accidental. Her family lost a lot of standing in a recent scandal, and union between them became a bit of a liability for the Archon. But I digress, slightly.

What matters is that Archon will most likely try to trap you in an engagement, and then marriage, to his eldest. In spite of your… _questionable, _at least in Tevinter, origin, your position would greatly strengthen the boy's chances as the future Archon. And he needs all the help he can get, the dashing flirt that he is, with mediocre powers and intelligence. You are aware, of course, that the passing of the position must be agreed by the Senate? Both sides are holding each other by their throats, so to speak – Archon approves Magisters, the Magisters approve who inherits his place.

Nonetheless, the boy can be quite charming, and I believe Archon hopes he would enchant you as well. Both you and I know it is a ridiculous presumption, but what I'm worried about is that once Lucius realizes the futility of his son's courtship, he will reach towards more… drastic solutions.

Like trying to manipulate your attraction using blood magic.

I do not know how you could protect yourself from that (when they attempted that with me, I ran away), but throwing you to the wolves without forewarning… That would make me a very bad friend, indeed.

Sending you my deepest regards,

Your friend,

Dorian

Well, well,

I had heard the most interesting news about your adventures in Tevinter. I suppose it is safe to assume that everything is proceeding tip top, according to the plan.

I have profited from this as well, my people taking over most of the Venatori operations. I hope you won't begrudge me shutting down all the slavery dens they held – I find myself disgusted with this business.

Should you need any further assistance, just send a word.

Always at your service,

Varric

My dear friend,

Life has been dreadfully boring since we've left Skyhold. Kieran misses you terribly, and has been whining incessantly when we could see each other again. Personally, I'm not adverse to such meeting, but with the eyes of the entire world upon you, I'm loath to subject us to scrutiny the reunion would bring us both. The famed witch of the wilds and the Inquisitor, that would keep the tongues wagging for months! Maybe when the excitement passes, we could arrange for something.

I've kept myself amused, occasionally scaring the farmers, and collecting snippets of ancient heritages the Well's voices lead me to. That and teaching Kieran while on the move has kept me busy, but sometimes I wish we had a place we could safely call our own, without fear of people chasing after us.

As to the favour you ask, it is no favour at all – you are quite possibly the only person I would ever entrust this knowledge with, I believe you wise enough not to misuse it. The details of the ritual I conducted while conceiving my child are included on the second page of this letter. I find myself curious, however, whatever you intend to do with this information. Please, do not keep me in suspense.

I'm peripherally aware of the Inquisitions recent actions, and I must admit, you have become quite confusing. Though I must admit, this is a vast improvement over the dreaded clerk you had been before. I await impatiently to find out what this all leads to.

Oh, you would never have guessed whom out of our mutual acquaintances I had the bad luck to encounter! Well, maybe you would, but my, was I surprised! The man seems a shadow of his former self. If you believe him unaffected by what transpired between the two of you, perish the thought. Still, his lack of appreciation towards my skills remained unaltered, and I was summarily reprimanded for my carelessness with an artefact that we both were interested in. The nerve! I retaliated by telling him about how well you were doing in spite of him gone, and my, did the man bristle. It appears the news of your new companion had shook him quite hard. As well as possibly, the rumours still surrounding the two of you. It was quite interesting, trying to see through this stony façade of his to see jealousy swirling underneath. Though it also confused me, as it was… well, contradictory to his past actions. We parted one worst terms, barely short of killing one another.

I've no more news to share, so I finish the letter with my best regards, and ensuring you of my unending devotion.

Morrigan


	26. The Bird Hunt Arc Part One

Inspired by:

Cry – Thomas Bergersen

**The Bird Hunt Arc Part One – The Wolf's Hunt**

After Abelas' surprising outburst, an uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Since she couldn't fall asleep in this strained atmosphere, she returned to the feast, the celebrations still in full swing. The male didn't accompany her, electing to remain in their camp, as they both felt some distance might clear the air between them.

She danced a bit with some random partners, and played with Ceres, who was quite energetic, in spite of the late hour. Or more _because_ of it, as it was a rare occasion for a child to be that late out of bed. Zirael smiled, indulgently observing the animated gesticulation of her charge, when she caught a gaze of Solas, staring at her meaningfully. This time, there was no Abelas to turn to, so she faced the male, gazing at him squarely. He inclined his head in clear suggestion, and when she shrugged neutrally, he left the party without second glance, obviously beckoning her to follow.

She fought with herself for a few short moments, but she owed him, twice now – for teaching Ceres, and then for his assistance during the river crisis. But those were merely her excuses, deep down she was still infatuated, still longed for his company. Even if it brought pain afterwards, when she had face the fact of their break up again.

"Why are we here? While I am, and will remain eternally grateful for your invaluable assistance, I must admit to being… confused." Her heart fluttered nervously, countless scenarios analysed and discarded in split seconds it took them to reach this secluded place. While her words were true, they were also a vast understatement - she was also disoriented, hopeful and apprehensive, and lastly, a bit guilty for even listening to him, in spite of her earlier words to Abelas. _Getting over_ indeed, when she jumped at his mere glance like a lovesick fool.

"Confused." He repeated, prolonging the letters deliberately in a slight mockery. And like a fool she felt indeed, though her features froze in polite coldness. Of course, her feelings were like an open book to him, and she struggled to maintain her confident mask, the pointlessness of it tiring her. But it was also the one thing that kept her from breaking down in front of him, her sole defence in the pretention.

"Yes. Confused." Two could play the game of trying to outwit one another, and she wasn't about to back down, simply because it was _him_. Or _especially_ because it was him.

Solas looked at her squarely, before finally stating, "You had asked a question during… the ordeal we went through."

That surprised her, but then again, she didn't know what to anticipate. "I did. I never expected to hear the answer." Zirael flicked her hand dismissively. "Do not mind me, I was merely… confused."

"As you are now." He was teasing, but she was in no mood for bantering right now.

"Precisely." Came her cutting reply. "What do you want, Solas? You know I hate playing these games." She turned away, and glanced pointedly in the direction of her campsite. "I need to return soon, _they_ will be worried." She took a spiteful pleasure in underlining the plural form of the word, even though it lost some of its lustre in the face of his imperviousness.

"I would you know the answer to your question."

"Why? You do not owe me anything." _Not anymore._

"I believe I do." His tone brought back memories when they did dance around the important issues until it all fell apart. Or, to be more exact, until _she _ fell apart. Her heart was pounding in her chest, so loud she was afraid he could hear it. A slight apprehension rose within her, _what else, Sylaise, do you want from me?_

"That is long in the past, already. I do not want to hear the answer." She was bluffing, and badly. He saw right through her, and as he smirked condescendingly, she bit her lips in agitation. It was frustrating, being outmanoeuvred at every step with such mastery, even Leliana couldn't do it that well. That of course brought them back to her query, which could, most likely, solve all of her doubts. If she was willing to brave it.

"Don't you?"

She remained frozen in place, wanting to reject the offer yet couldn't, and that seemed to enough of a response for him. Solas started shimmering, a blue mist engulfing his entire body, a form of magic unlike anything she had seen before. Unwittingly, she was enchanted by the sight, until a gigantic wolf stood in his place, at least thrice the mass of the typical animals, and twice their height. Her eyes widened in shock, and she fought off the urge to pinch herself, to check if she wasn't dreaming. The large beast in front of her sat patiently, making no move towards her, as she took her time to gather back her wits.

Zirael finally whispered, "You are not an elf" _way to state the obvious, _"but a spirit!" The revelation was breathtaking, and she staggered, her legs giving out. She leant on the tree within her reach, her perception swirling, desperately trying to grasp the reality in front of her.

But the wolf was clearly not satisfied with her answer, as it tilted its head sideways, _you can do better than that _ visible in his countenance. So she exerted her mind once more, a seemingly meaningless instances from the past now making so _much more sense._

"You are Fen'Harell, the one we hailed as a god, once." Finally, she found the right solution, as the animal bent his body, confirming her guess. _Oh, just kill me._ _I simply had to fuck up my life more by falling for a once-deity. _But among the chaotic thoughts, the most prevalent was the feeling of disorientation. She closed her eyes, trying to make sense out of the situation, and whispered, pained,

"Please, leave me alone for now."

She didn't look up, but the powerful presence disappeared, and she spent the night staring at the moon, shaken. 

When she returned to their tents in the morning, she had a dazed expression on her face, but Abelas didn't ask for anything. The next few days she spent mainly silent, pondering on what transpired between her and Solas. The glances the elf sent her were growing more worried with each passing day, when she responded in a one worded, clipped responses, even when prompted for more. Yet still, he didn't push.

She was feeling both grateful and guilty, but for now, she couldn't _deal_ with both her own confused feelings, and his. Underneath all that was a startling certainty, that now everything would change between the two of them, when Solas once again entered the picture. But she was far too tired to try preventing that, and, in the end, she couldn't lie to herself – she still loved the man. And he loved her still, she had no doubts about that – he wouldn't have revealed his nature if that wasn't the case. Even if he turned out to be different entity than she believed, what was between them, once, was true. And that meant giving him a chance to explain, giving herself a chance at closure.

But before any decision regarding their future could be made, she had to get more answers from Solas. So, after coming to terms with what she was shown, finally she was ready to make the move.

It was very tempting to sneak around, avoid Abelas and the consequences, but she wouldn't turn coward just because it was the easier choice. Zirael strolled through the camp, surprised looks chasing after her. The people got used to her seclusion, first from the injury, later by her own choice. Abelas was talking with Keeper Ilris, but stopped midsentence at the sight of her, sending her questioning look.

She ignored him, and went to Solas, who was also in the vicinity, speaking with some other, unknown to her, Keeper. She waited politely until they finished, hiding her impatience. The male became immediately aware of her, she could see it from the way his shoulder tensed, though, of course, his face showed no reaction. He rushed through the well-wishes, and turned to face her as soon as his conversationalist departed. She motioned at him to follow her, and once more disregarding the bewildered, and a bit alarmed glance from Abelas, and they both left the clearing.

He took the lead, guiding her towards the small, shadowed pond near one if the river's former meanders. It was slowly drying up, deprived of its source of water, but large bushes thrived on the rich silt that remained. They hid on the small glade, barely two steps away from each other, in search of privacy. The abundant flora provided them with a great cover from the inquisitive eyes of the onlookers, a rare situation in such large gathering, as usually you were watched from somewhere by someone.

She took a deep breath, praying for courage, and tackled the issue that gave her many sleepless nights. "Was _that_ a reason you left? Did you believe me incapable of accepting your true nature?" there was an evident hurt in her shaking voice, unshed tears in her eyes.

He flinched from the accusation. "No, I didn't doubt you" he answered with quiet fervour, and clear honesty.

"Then _why_?" her confusion was heartbreaking, he made a step towards her with obvious intention to take her in his arms, reassuringly. But Zirael shied away, glaring at him. _Answer me, dammit! _

"I've a task I must complete, a task that will take tens of years, ages even, and none can accompany me" he answered after a moment, trying to find words to describe his decision. " It would kill you, if I tried bringing you along. And I wouldn't have survived your loss" the brutal honesty of his words shook her, and he continued. "I wished you happy, a lover by your side who could _remain_, not someone coming and going, leaving you alone and desolate."

She calmed down, rejoicing at his answer, as it meant there was no wrong within her that chased him away. But there was still a cautious sadness to that realization, that their relationship was doomed from the beginning, exactly like he predicted. "And you believed your choice to be a correct one. What changed?" she asked softly, something very still within her, anxious about the response.

"Nothing" he laughed bitterly. "But I'm a selfish, selfish man, and I found it unbearable to watch you in the arms of another."

"I do not know if I can forgive you" she admitted, hurting at the very thought, but unable to lie. "let alone accept you once more. I do not know if I could live like that."

"Then I must accept this answer for now" he smiled sadly "as my duties call me yet again. I pushed them away long enough."

She could see in his eyes the temptation to claim her, use his strength to force her submission right now. The yearning look woke the desire in her, but she knew if she faltered, it would destroy them both, it would be a lie born in the spur of a moment, not a true forgiveness. The struggle within him ceased, and he brushed over her cheek in a tender goodbye, before a blue glow surrounded him, again. The wolf replaced the man, and with a haunting, pained howl, it ran to the south, away from her tear stained face.

She remained in the spot for some time, washing her face with a cold water to hide away the cheeks puffed up from crying. Finally, she picked herself up, and returned to Abelas, who had a hurt look on his face, and a cold gaze.

Ceres was really worried about the two of them, so Zirael faked nonchalance, and for the child's sake, pretended that everything was okay. Even though she felt the distance between her and the male like a physical blow, a loss she was afraid of. But they had to leave soon, her own, plentiful duties, calling her back to Skyhold, so the pretence lasted only for a short while. There were many things that needed to be arranged, and her plans were far from being close to completion. So they said their goodbyes to the girl, and left the gathering, which was also soon dispersing.

On the way, she analysed her feelings for both males, knowing that the decision had to be made. But she wavered, undecided. Could they try again? Was there even a chance to rebuild a relationship that was so full of holes, mistrust, reticence? Did they even know one another? What was there between them, really, that made her so devoted? Would it be enough, when they had conflicts, when it was time for confrontation? Or would she have to submit, _again_, because he was whom he was, and she was so much below him? Could she withstand it?

On the other hand, could she bring herself to reject Abelas, risking losing him? He became her safe haven in these past years, and the possibility of him not being near her was… painful. True, at the moment, anything more than this vague… friendship going on lovers thing was as far as she could be pushed with honesty, but she knew, with the passage of time, it _could_ change. She found him attractive, and fun, and in general, had it not been for Solas…

But it had been. And she promised herself, after that fateful meeting with the spirit in Temple, never to lie to herself again. Even if it resulted in breaking the heart of her friend in the process. But no matter how much she wished, she couldn't split in two, nor would she deceive herself – that was a path leading straight into a tragedy. Building the relationship based on pity was a horror for both parties, and if Abelas ever suspected her thoughts lingered on the idea, he would leave her side immediately. Yet it was hard to bring herself to make the step that broke their recent progress, their fragile understanding.

In the end, she was unable to come to any resolution in her internal conflict, and instead, focused on the issues she _could_ solve. With her arrival back to Skyhold she arranged for the meeting with Vivienne, during which she discussed the problems the mages created with the First Enchanter. The solution was a middle ground between Josephine's and Leliana's suggestions, the lady not afraid of dirtying her hands should the necessity call for it, but also perfectly capable of threatening people into submission. Vivienne was overjoyed with her decision, and promised to keep a stronger hold over the Circles' antics in the future.

She then sent an apologetic letter to the Templars, with a pointed warning that if they ever tried stepping out of line, Inquisition would be forced to interfere. Ser Barris was a sensible man, she had no doubts he would heed her warning.

Zirael also replied to Morrigan, jumping at her wish to meet, and sending a question about an incognito sort of location that would grant them the privacy and lack of recognition both of them desired. She responded both to Dorian and Varric, sending the former her thanks for the warning, and to Varric a further instructions on the tasks he could help with.

And then she waited. And waivered. Still undecided when it came to the two males that fought for her attention.


	27. The Bird Hunt Arc Part Two

Author's notes:

I'm sorry for the long delay, but this chapter just didn't want to get written. I had the first part finished, and then I tried like 10 times to do this _talk_ with Abelas, and it just didn't seem right, each and every one of them. Now I'm _mildly_ satisfied, but I might yet rewrite it again. And I'm sorry to all who feel offended by my portrayal of Morrigan. I did try to do her justice, but she is such a diverse character, one can see her in many different ways. I am thinking on writing a piece just about her, once this is finished, what do you guys think? A spin-off, partially relating her point of view on the events, and partially her own arc, that's the general idea for now.

BTW, the next chapter might also take a while – I need an inspiration, how the Tevinter ball would look like, and it just doesn't come together.

Inspired by:

Immortal – Thomas Bergersen

**The Bird Hunt Arc Part Two – The Hawk's Hunt**

She had met with Morrigan in Halamshiral, in one of the many restaurants the city offered. It was, after all, a place where noble came to have fun when their duties allowed them such indulgence, and in spite of her antics in Winter Palace, her face was unknown among the people here, unlike in Val Royeaux, where she had to take greater pains to remain incognito. She could count on relative anonymity, just one of the many elves in the town, though decidedly better off than average. The witch had chosen to wear less noticeable attire than her usual, feathered one, at Kieran's insistence, no doubt. The boy was overjoyed at Zirael's sight, and at the presents she brought for him, though a bit saddened he didn't have the pleasure of meeting Ceres, having heard about her from his mother's letters. The elven woman reassured him there would be an ample opportunity to make up for that in the future. And then Abelas led the child to play with the horses, bowing in the females' direction stiffly, to let them have some privacy for their conversation. Zirael related the events in Tevinter, responding to the curiosity of her companion.

"Ah, I had _wondered_" conceded Morrigan, drawling out syllables in a slightly condescending manner. "The news of your heroics, a self-sacrificing, altruistic defence of the Archon had spread like a wildfire, but it just seemed _so _out of your character."

"Nothing as noble as that" snorted Zirael derisively. "I have no altruistic bone in my body, you know me, Morrigan." Her scoff had a strange edge to it, garnering a surprised look from the witch. The elf exhaled, and forced herself to relax – it seemed the past weeks were more grating on her nerves than she was aware of.

"That's why it was so bewildering. So that's what it was all about…" the witch shook her head in astonishment. "My dear friend, you always find ways to amaze me. Just when I think I had you all figured out, you pull something like that, and leave me stumped."

Zirael smiled, responding flippantly, "It makes life more interesting, though."

"Immensely so." But the witch had a frown on her face, in spite of the enthusiastic reaction, and Zirael felt apprehensive, just as the woman proved herself to be as observant as usual. "But there's something else there, you are… upset."

"I'm not sure upset is the correct term for my state, but, well…. _Something_ did happen." Sighed elven female, and with slight reluctance, she told the rest of the story, stuttering slightly at some parts of it.

Morrigan's eyes widened at the revelation about Solas' origin, and she shook her head in wonder, but kept her thoughts to herself, finally commenting at the end, "Only you, my friend, would be so distressed about having two handsome, capable man going after you. Most females would be over the moon."

"Three."

"Three?"

Zirael grimaced with clear annoyance. "The Archon's son, Cassius, had just written to me. It's an invitation to the Tevinter's new year's celebrations, and of course, woe betide me, should I even dream of rejecting it. Apparently, he is quite sought after, since his wife had passed." The witch laughed freely, seeing the humour in the situation, while Zirael glowered, failing to appreciate it. She had nothing to be joyful about.

"And it's not like I do not value them, it's just that… What would you do in my place?"

"Trifle with all, just to compare them to one another, before going my own merry way. You know I don't get attached" replied Morrigan blithely. "But you are a very different story – for one, I don't think you are _capable _of fooling around. Might be the reason why the males keep falling for you, like ripe apples from a tree – so many, you might trip over them."

"Well, at least Cassius' motive is pure power-play, I have no need to worry about emotions overcomplicating the matters. I just need to make sure I do not let them trap me in some sort of declaration or deal I cannot back away from. But I do feel like a hunted bird, these days, a bit." She played with her hair nervously, slightly exasperated with herself.

The witch laughed again, pointing out snidely, "Mainly by your own confused feelings." But she grew more serious, saying, "Then again, it speaks for your character that you didn't ditch the guardian right away, I mean, to be pursued by the god! Not to mention, deities are not known for their patience, _or_ mercy, now that he has chosen to reveal himself, I would assume he would stick to his true character. There are many legends about Fen'Harell, and not many favourable."

"He was pretty vengeful, in our stories." Admitted the elven female with a heavy sigh. "Then again, our lore was largely mistaken or misinterpreted, so there's nothing really there that could help me judge him – if anything, I would most likely offend him by doing so." She fell into a pensive mood, distracted by the uneasy thoughts, and Morrigan allowed her this moment to recollect herself, before the witch spoke,

"But I must say, you need to come clear to your guardian. The tension between the two was so thick, it could be cut. And, while it pains me to say so, it is unfair to him, keeping him like that, without a word of explanation. Especially since you care for him." Her words had a clear, unspoken meaning – _I wouldn't care at all._

Guilt crossed Zirael's features, and she turned her gaze away. _If only it was so easy… _"You are right, of course. I just need to find the right moment." _And the right words._

They parted then, the witch wishing to leave Halamshiral before sundown, and settle for the night away from the human settlement, the elven female also wanting to proceed with her journey to Val Royeaux while the sun was still up.

They greeted the reddening sun in an inn in Verchiel, though the female would have much rather continued on. The place was a dirty hovel, dusty and smelling of spilled beverage. The rooms weren't much of an improvement, draughty windows allowing the wind in, and the covers clearly unwashed for quite some time. They decided to use their own sleeping bags, Zirael afraid of catching some disease in these unsanitary conditions. After they ate some of their rations, unwilling to risk the local delicacies, they fell into uncomfortable silence, Zirael stealing nervous glances at her companion. Abelas was looking impassively at the ceiling, stretched on the battered bunk, observing with stubborn dedication the lazy movements of some spider, that made his home in one of the corners. She bit her lip, annoyed with herself, and finally begun the topic that haunted the room, unspoken yet seemingly almost visible, immediately getting his attention.

"Solas approached me, and… we spoke." _A vast understatement, but sufficient to get the point across. _He sat up on the bed, facing her, and replied with forced neutrality, 

"I had wondered when you would finally decide to talk about it." His gaze grew sharper, as he inquired, "Did you forgive him?"

"No, but I found his explanation… reasonable. I understand why, and even more, some part of me agrees with him." _And yet, still wants to try again, now that I know. _But she didn't need to say that, he clearly caught onto this hidden meaning within her words. She expected reproach, some sort of condemnation, but instead Abelas just sighed as if he had expected that, and asked,

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No, never!" escaped her lips impulsively, before her thoughts caught up. "Why would you say that?"

The male looked away from her, before articulating with obvious discomfort, "Won't my presence make things… awkward, between the two of you?"

_There's that._ But she shook her head decisively, staring at him squarely, without a hint of a doubt. "He will just have to deal with it, if I decide to… pick up where we left off." And then she added, with reluctance, "but if you want to go, I won't stop you." _I have no right._

Abelas laughed, with a touch of bitterness, before replying, "My lady, I have decided to follow your dream, the emotions complicated matters much later. I'll stay, as long as you will have me."

Zirael smiled with genuine happiness, relieved from the pressure that hounded her these past few weeks, brushing away the tears that balanced on the edge of her lashes. And suddenly, the course before her was clear – she had to talk with the wolf once more, to ascertain of some issues, but otherwise she knew, she wasn't losing him again. And, what a joy, she wasn't really losing Abelas either, and while the distance between them was a bit daunting, and would take some getting used to, she was glad that she would be keeping his friendship and companionship.

They slept after that, the elven female finally able to get a night of peaceful slumber. She woke up extremely cheerful, and they made good headway to Kirkwall, where they had set up a meeting with Varric. The tavern was as usual brimming with energy, people of all races gathered, and in unusual spirit of camaraderie slurring out the senseless stories. They stopped by the bar to order drinks, before proceeding upstairs, to the dwarf's den, where Master tethras was awaiting them.

"Inquisitor" the dwarf greeted her with exaggerated, exuberant bow, forcing a laugh out of her, joyful at the sight of her old companion. She hugged the male without restraint, unable to resist his charm, and laughed again when he swatted her away.

"How can I be of service?" asked Varric, after exchanging polite, if a bit stiff, nods with Abelas. She hid a smile at his straightforwardness, before replying honestly,

"I need an alliance with Antiva. Do you have any ties to the royal family, per chance?"

His eyes widened, before he squinted them in suspicion. "Why would you need anything from that bunch?" The tone was far from complimentary, and Zirael had on the tip of her tongue the question whatever warranted them such contempt from the male, but it wasn't the right time, so she focused on the issue at hand.

"Our temporary truce with Tevinter is bound to break, sooner or later. And the worst, and the easiest way for them to hurt my future domain will be to announce, and enforce, embargo." She shrugged uneasily, seeing understanding downing in Varric's eyes. "The only countermeasure would be to ensure Antivans' good will and alliance beforehand. Preferably without alerting the Archon prematurely." She made a few steps across the room, and absentmindedly fuelled the fire with some wood scraps, continuing her thought, "The Antivans aren't likely to follow the Tevinter's orders, but I need to make certain we won't be left stranded."

The male remained silent for a while, mulling over her words, before saying, "you are looking far into the future, with your schemes." There was a new degree of respect in his voice.

"Maybe not that long, but… yes. I suspect, twenty years of relative stability before things get ugly. Nonetheless, I wouldn't want to be caught unprepared, should matters get out of hand earlier than I predicted." She turned to face the dwarf, determination on her face. "So, can you help?"

The dwarf drummed the fingers on the top of the table, lost in thought, before asking, "I cannot give you any access to the royal family, but… Why would you need it?"

"What do you mean? Antiva is, in spite of being merchant congregation, still a monarchy."

"No, no, no. You are not thinking out of the box. Consider it once again – who holds the real power in Antiva?"

It was Abelas who finally caught on to the dwarf's intentions, saying softly, "Crows."

"Precisely!" Varric rubbed his hands together, nodding in appreciation, just as Zirael exhaled in sudden understanding.

"You are in contact with the guild of assassins?" there was a degree of disbelief in her voice, and she cast an uneasy glance at Varric.

"Not precisely, but we have come to an… understanding, to avoid… stepping onto each other's toes, so to speak." Varric saw the shock on her face, before waving away her concerns, "Nothing like that! I'm not into killing people, you know me, Inquisitor. It's a simple arrangement – I do not help their targets, they do not take contracts for my agents. But it does enforce certain amount of contact between us, so we have an open line, just in case something unusual happens."

Zirael had to, once again, reassess her perception of the dwarf. "Just how widespread your business is, Varric?"

The male blinked innocently, not responding to the question, and instead just continued, as if she hadn't spoken, "I'm quite certain that your intention to meet with the Guild Master will get their attention. More than that…" he shook his head, "I cannot guarantee anything. But we have nothing to lose by trying, right?"

"Do whatever you think is best" agreed Zirael, sending a questioning glance at Abelas, who inclined his head in approval. They left it at that, and proceeded to play cards and drink until late night, a vague reminiscence of the times before Corypheus' defeat. Later, in their quarters, the female was too excited to fall asleep, so instead she went to the window, letting in the cool air, and observing the full moon in its glory. The male joined her wordlessly, putting a coat over her shoulders to prevent the chill from settling in. She tugged at the cloth, adjusting it to lay better, before breaking the silence.

"There's a certain mission I am not all that keen on letting outsiders deal with…" Zirael said uncertainly, with an obvious solution before the two of them, and yet still unwilling to take it for granted.

"My lady, this dancing around the issue is unbecoming, and quite unlike you." He had a disapproving frown on his face, before stating as if it was obvious, "My guardians are yours to command, however you need them."

She sighed, before ordering with a steel in her voice, "I need your Guardians to travel across the Imperium, and buy out talented elves. Especially young mages, but artisans, craftsmen, and even gardeners will do just as well."

A brief pause to catch a breath, and she pursued the matter, explaining her motives before him,

"We need to start building our power base right away, especially luxurious merchandise for export. To protect our lands, an army will be necessary, and for an army, one needs funds. Which we won't have in abundance, I assure you, especially since the Archon will require his tributes, and we can't afford shrinking from this duty."

She looked at him, and he nodded his acquiescence, prompting her to continue,

"I hope I will be able to convince some of the clans to join in, but at most, one or two will come, and that is a generous estimation. They are far too set in their ways to change quickly, and we need people right away, even if only to teach others. I expect the influx of City elves, actually, eager to get this new chance and break away from the imposing atmosphere of human cities – but they usually only learned how to serve others, and we need more than that."

"They might not want to leave" Interjected Abelas, with a wave of his hand encompassing the main, obvious reason why it might be hard for them. She agreed, replying,

"If the slaves won't want to come, leave behind their families, convince them that in time they will be able to earn the freedom of their relatives."

He looked at her sharply, "You are quire ruthless, using their attachment against them."

She shrugged imperviously, unconcerned by his harsh judgment. "I cannot afford to be empathic about it – we need them far too much. We don't have the funds, nor will we have for a long time, to free _all_ elven slaves in Tevinter. Not to mention, some of them, after literally ages of indoctrination, a whole generations living in servitude, have become unable to free themselves from the chains, should we even free them."

There was nothing he could say to refute her words, so he simply said, "It will be done."

"Also, this mission requires certain amount of subterfuge, as I would wish no one realized what I'm doing. I will supply them with funds, of course, Varric sent me some portion of the proceedings from the Venatori wealth, and my stash is quite full, not to mention I can snatch away some of the Inquisition's resources, leaving none the wiser, though I would much rather it didn't come to that."

"Of course, my lady."

_Well then. The groundwork is finished. Now, I will need to step carefully. _


End file.
